The Young Dead by Myra Morris

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No mighty architecture marks their grave;
   Across the covering earth no flow'rs are strown;  
   No fiery letters cut in carven stone 
Burn splendid syllables above the brave.    
But crag, and cliff, and sand form fitting pave,  
   And drifting dust by gutt'ral sea-winds blown,    
   Writhes o'er the rocks the screeching guns have known,
To requiem of long Aegean wave.

Then sleep! Uncaring, sleep, O happy dead!      
   And when the tides upgathered swirl and sweep,
   And the resurgent seas roll by and strain -- 
Appassionato round your rugged bed --
   Still slumber on! The centuries will reap 
   This seed - souls of the fallen born again!

First published in The Argus, 24 April 1920

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on April 24, 2014 7:43 AM.

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