Found in the pocket book of Arthur Agius.
1st November 1929
This day is like a resurrection morn,
Crowded with faces from forgotten years,
That went, O pitiful untimely born,
To perish, lapped in unavailing tears.
O world unheeding, pause awhile to-
Stay thy plough, Farmer, in the fertile plain,
If he had lived, thy son had trod this way;
This team had felt his hand upon the rein.
Be silent, Children, silent where you play,
In memory of one you scarcely knew.
Out of the mist his image looms to-
Your father, faithful unto death for you.
O pause, our City’s teeming multitude!
Your streets they knew, they lifted to your skies
(That fiery-
Unconquered spirit shining through wet eyes.
To Thee, our Nation’s martyred Motherhood,
I dare not say “Remember” but “Be proud”
To-
In all our grateful hearts their praise is loud.