Upon a bluff,
the crosses stand at rest,
perfect ranks of gleaming white
on tendered grass of green.
Sounds of battle echo,
muted by the sea;
rolling now in quiet waves,
they die upon the beach.
Overlooking the sea,
the crosses stand at rest;
gleaming white,
they call the sun to shine its light
where flowering youth now rests.
White crosses glow in moonlight,
stars still shed their tears,
upon these bluffs above the sea,
by shores of Normandy.
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