UNDER AEGEAN SKIES

Mt Benger Mail, 3 September 1941, Page 4

UNDER AEGEAN SKIES

The following verses, writen by a refugee from Greece and Crete, ■’npeared in a recent issue of the “Sudan Daily Herald”:— Oh Crete, we know 'tis not in

vain i Onr youth so brave, our Empire’s

pride Lie on thy hills and in thy plain In their last sleep, just side by side. i

And yet—alone they lie not —the, Nor lonely is their ageless sleep; Cretans and Greeks their fate do

share, i Cretans and Greeks with us do weep. ;

Our prayers and tears will mingle too And blend with Grecian mothers' tears; i Our love enshrouds those hearts so true, i While God reclaims their youthful years.

Our hearts can never weep enough For those who gave their lives—their all. On Cretan earth they sleep—though rough They lie in peace where they did fall.

Nature, who loves her brave ones

too, Opened her arms for them to

rest. i They sleep beneath a sky so blue On Grecian soil—‘twill be reblest.

And in this corner of a foreign field i ' "Which is for ever England,” now lies “In that rich earth, a richer dust concealed,” Sunkissed—’neath wondrous Grecian skies.

Mid olive groves of silver green They lie—enshrined in memory’ B tomb; Some sheltered by the fragrant screen Of olive blossom all in bloom.

Some day we T1 pick some blossom too, And gently strew it where they sleep. We’ll feel perhaps each soldier knew We offer homage as we weep-

Yes, ’twas their fate to die so young Ere sorrow marred their youthful dream, It was their fate to lie among The scented wild herbs by the stream.

Far, up the gorge, and on the hills, No aimless crowds may wander there; There, only Nature’s beauty fills The peaceful spot, the scented air!

Sweet smelling thyme and sage grey blue Around their grave will grow - so wild, Offering their scent, so sacred too, Like holy incense o’er each child.

The birds will sing to them alwavs. The wind will softly moan and sigh, The trees will bend in silent praise For our dead whose soul can never die.

Though o’er their grave few friends may tread, Few friends may linger there to weep, . The bright Greek sun will warm their bed, The gentle waves rock them to sleep. Oft will some Cretan pass their grave, Offering a prayer, and homage deep. While the Grecian sun and gleaming wave For ever guard their ageless sleep. —L. Koyser.