SEVEN YEARS LATER

Grey River Argus, 23 April 1925, Page 7

SEVEN YEARS LATER

And now that the brass and 11,,. hurrah, The dance of the blood To the trooper’s rhythmic thud The glint of blades Tn the furl of fine parades The boom, the blast Of the mad epic Are echoinj in the past.

For those who sang. And made such brave harangue. And lightly reaped While stiffened corpses heaped. And those who sold God’s greatest gifts for gold, There is no verse Tn all anathema to speak the curse. Taveh or Fate, attend us in our hate Or we may stray: There is still much to say; .Much that is bad— And all of us are mad— So little good— Save where the sticks of wood Ami mounds of sod Smile their mute heresy At every god. How will you learn When men never learn? Neyv leaders come And pound the ancient drum, ve w herds a rise With faith in withered lies, And every day Alon die for aged blunders 1 n a blundering way. Lard of our years, Still too young for tears; Still '•porting avay Th? splendour of a -lay, Ym; scinandor yiur nights For silly little lights— And stars and moons \ i " only tints of t insei For your silly tunes . . . W GJ.