TO OUR NOBLE DEAD,
GENTLY the land proclaimed its secret story, Flowers and fruits were answering to the sun,
Mountains and valleys were habited in glory, Harvests of gold were waiting to be won.
Peaceful the world appeared.Until an eagle shook its wings, and rising, Poised over Europe like an unclean thing.Throughout the land arose a cry of voices, —Britain is menaced—and you swiftly came
Unto her aid, you who in she rejoices ; Surely the spark burst forth into a flame.
Freely you left, disconsolate and tender, All who were dearest, for the mortal strife ;
Nothing you recked of glory and of splendour, Only you knew your land required your life.
And you restrained your tears, so near to falling ; Nobly you felt the import of the hour ; Nothing you heeded but your country calling…
