Some bird that sings in English woods may sing
To English lads beneath—the wind will keep
Its ancient lullaby.
Some flower that blooms beside the Southern foam
May blossom where our dead Australians lie,
And comfort them with whispers of their home;
And they will dream, beneath the alien sky,
Of the Pacific Sea.
“Thrice happy they who fell beneath the walls,
Under their father’s eyes,” the Trojan said,