HIS GRAVE.

New Zealand Tablet, 20 March 1919, Page 42

HIS GRAVE.

(For the N.Z. Tablet.) I know not where they laid you when you fell; But somewhere, somewhere far on Flanders field A white cross gleams above a mound to tell Your sacrifice; the wild flowers are your shield; Above your head is song and blush of spring. The kind wind breathes upon your hallowed clay A prayer by night;a memory by day. And round your cross these wistful yearnings cling. I know that you have found eternal rest, And that full joy— crown of brightest worth. You walk the golden mansions of the blest, But I feel still the cold cerements of Earth That fold about your heart—and that sad pain That lingers o'er your grave on Flanders plain. "Cyras." Christchurch.