In Sun and Shade: A Book of Verse

by Frederick George Scott


 

THE WARDERS


 

ON Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele,
    Our silent armies sleep,
Through Summer’s sun and Winter’s gale
    And ’neath the starry deep;
No more for them the dawn of day,
5
    Nor sunset on the hill,
Their shouts and songs have died away,
    Their giant strength is still.

The march of time goes swiftly by
    And brings its care and toil,

10
But in eternal youth they lie
    Beneath a foreign soil;
With iron limbs and fire for breath
    They charged amidst the gloom,
And shared along those fields of death
15
    The comradeship of doom.

Yet not in vain they watch and wait,
    Strong champions of the right;
They are the warders at our gate
    And guard us through the night.

20
From selfish aim and paltry ease,
    From slavery of the soul,
The men that save the land are these;
    They point us to the goal.