To the Fallen Heroes by Zora Cross

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No little victory we praise
   This mellow day in June,  
As down the way the chanting comes  
   Of many a martial tune.  

No petty, passing sigh is ours,
   No merely human prayer,  
The news of every fresh-cut trench
   Brings heartache everywhere.

For blue, blue eyes that smiled in ours,
   And hearts that linked our own,  
Wait wearied, longing for the charge,
   Or maybe die --- alone.

Dear hands, dear fingers that we pressed,
   No little niche is thine,
Where hero meets with hero on
   The hills and plains divine.

First published in The Brisbane Courier, 16 June 1915

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of BiographyOld Qld Poetry

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on June 16, 2012 12:29 PM.

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