Your battle-wounds are scars upon my heart, Received when in that grand and tragic
"show" You played your part Two years ago,
And silver in the summer morning sun I see the symbol of your courage glow- That
Cross you won Two years ago,
Though now again you watch the shrapnel fly, And hear the guns that daily louder
grow, As in July Two years ago,
May you endure to lead the last advance And with your men pursue the flying foe As
once in France Two years ago.
THE SISTERS BURIED AT
O Golden Isle set in the deep blue Ocean, With purple shadows flitting o'er thy crest, I kneel to thee in reverent devotion Of some who on thy bosom lie at rest!
Seldom they enter into song or story; Poets praise the soldier's might and deeds of War, But few exalt the Sisters, and the glory Of women dead beneath a distant star.
No armies threatened in that lonely station, They fought not fire or steel or ruthless foe, But heat and hunger, sickness and privation, And Winter's deathly chill and blinding snow.
Till mortal frailty could endure no longer Disease's ravages and climate's power, In body weak, but spirit ever stronger, Courageously they stayed to meet their hour.
No blazing tribute through the wide world flying, No rich reward of sacrifice they craved, The only meed of their victorious dying Lives in the heart of humble men they saved.
Who when in light the Final Dawn is breaking, Still faithfull, though the world's regard may cease, Will honour, splendid in triumphant waking, The souls of women, lonely here at peace.
O golden Isle with purple shadows falling Across thy rocky shore and sapphire sea, I shall not picture these without recalling The sisters sleeping on the heart of thee!
by Vera Brittain
Wilfred Owen
At a Calvary Near The Ancre
One ever hangs where shelled roads part.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.
Near Golgotha strolls many a priest,
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ's denied.
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ's denied.
The scribes on all the people shove
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.
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