Snowdrop

The poem refers to this picture (which is by no means mine).

Frozen winds across the desolate plain
Forming frost, a shattered and hoary mane
Comrades shackled, bound in steel links of chain
Barren lands in which nothing will remain
Blood from the broken wounded slowly drains
The chill hope of life covered up with stains
Conquered people, an overlord now reigns
The thought of peaceful death no longer pains
They fought for freedom, they’re shackled for peace
Whipped to submission, death acts as a tease
Taskmasters beat slaves for what—they don’t know
Last sign of life in a place ruled by snow
Elven defenders of the land laid low
Peaceful sword undrawn by an unstrung bow

Brown hair crowns his golden, now frosted head
Seemingly living though long he’s been dead
Preserved by the freeze of his wint’ry stead
Died for freedom and peace when all is said
In his frozen corpse hopeful flowers grow
The seeds of hope that death did kindly sow
Life unseen, unheard hidden down below
Sign of spring to come and the fountains flow
Ironic buds in a land of despair
The joyful hope of life abandons there
The whip bears all the masters wretched care
To the slaves’ hunched backs open and bare
The blood of countless gashes freezing fast
Hope turns to death as life will swiftly pass