A PRAYER
Lord, keep him near to me:
Revive his image, let my darkening sight
Renew his life by death intensified
(His beating life so pitifully tried)
That we may face the night
And shade the agony.
We pray in barren stress
Where stricken men await the shrill alarm
And nightly watch, in silent order set,
The beckoning stars enshrine the parapet.
Lord, keep his soul from harm
And grant him happiness.
When all the world is free,
And, cleansed and purified by floods of pain
We turn, and see the light in human eyes;
When the last echo of War’s thunder dies;
Lord, let us pause again
In silent memory.
Gallipoli, October, 1915.
FALLEN
The days shall darken and sink down to Night,
And Night shall break in the bleak dawn of Day:
The years shall dim his face, our fleeting sight
Shall see his splendid image fade away
Beyond the knowledge of our drifting thought
Which moves in circles to the source again,
Beyond dark seas with shivering stars inwrought
Beyond war-burdened men in stricken pain.
I searched in rage and passionate despair
Down winding paths of thought, and comradeless
In the full surge and tumult where he died
I turned; and saw my Brother standing there.
His face was like a dawning happiness—
I saw wounds in his hands, his feet, his side.