AFTERWARDS IN FLANDERS.
Out of their mingled earth tall trees are sprouting, Withered their laurels now, their names unguessed; Here, where they died to save us, nothing doubting, Sheltered from our forgetfulness they rest. Falls once again the twilight of November; These gaves tlieir lives when life was at the May. Have I the right to whisper, “ I remember ” ? I was not with them when they marched away. All that they never had was mine, full measure, Dying, they passed to me tlieir heritage—hove, friendship, toil, achievement, learning, leisure, Voices of children, golden middle age. And, with it all, the knowledge never sleeping, Though none reproached, that I was not as they, That Life is won by losing, lost by keeping— I was not with them when they marched away. —An Unknown Civilian, in the Observer.
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Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 3755, 2 March 1926, Page 77
Word Count
136AFTERWARDS IN FLANDERS. Otago Witness, Issue 3755, 2 March 1926, Page 77
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