Standing up to attention,
In gala uniforms new —
Shouldering bloom in ranks of four,
The hollyhocks wait for you.

Will you come and review them
From red fields of Picardy —
Or do they blend with the poppies
In dreams of love and me?

Have you forgot in Flanders,
The way to your garden gate?
Has the skylark outsung the robin
Calling you early and late?

Come dear dead at Midsummer!
Awake to old witcheries —
The hollyhocks wait your guard-mount
In a garden over-seas!

And if my heart fails on its marching way,
As children do I set in dear array
Upon my bed —
The letter that you wrote one Summer day,
A pencil that you loaned me at the play,
I coveted —
A military button that you wore
Upon your sleeve of khaki, — and then more
And last a crumpled cablegram that bore
Unsigned, undated, two words — " As before. "