<- Back to main page

Elegy for the Red Baron

by Warren Nadvornick


How strange it is to see him lying there,

eyes skyward, still unclouded by the mist

of death, as even death had not dismissed

this young, ferocious master of the air.

He ruled the blinding blue arena where

our brothers faced him: where none could resist

those bludgeons by this swift and bloody fist

of the brute empire thrashing from its lair.

Now lift him up, and standing in a row

salute him, glove and gun—we give this rite

to you, far from your land, our gallant foe,

to ease your passing to the endless night.

You held our honor in your heart, and so

we hold you through your low and final flight.