31st October 1926

To-day we call the muster roll
Of comrades that were yesterday
But names engraved on stone or brass.
To-day they greet us, soul to soul,

And cry to us across the years
(The barren years of feckless broil
And clamour of insensate strife),
“Forget to-day, the sighs, the tears,

The unrequited toil, no more
Let Hope lie bleeding in the dust.
Be blithe to-day; your comrades call
From stricken hill; from lonely shore

From citadels that once were fair,
From vantage points o’er half the world,
Whose names your grandsires never knew,
And ye have long forgot. Oh, hear

The clarion call that comes to you
From your own flesh and blood and bone.
What we endured, ye may endure:
The storms we weathered, ye pass through:

What we have given, ye may give;
Home, comfort, friends, love kith and kin;
Not riches all, but dearer still
We gave our blood that ye might live.

Let not our blood in vain be shed.
To your own heritage be true:
Keep fast the coasts we kept for you.
Farewell.” Farewell, Immortal Dead.

Not Gilead hath such a balm
To soothe our grief; to spur the soul
To struggle upward to the goal,
And challenge fate, serene and calm.