Paula Fitzgerald, 'To a Fallen Soldier'
All through the years we have not seen your eyes
Searching ours as if in mute appeal-
And a voice - my soul's - within me cries,
'Brother of laughter! You whose merry ways
Echo in memories of our childhood days
Help us find the ideal in the real!
For all our dreams are shadows, and the thread
Which once we spun hangs broken from the loom-
And myriad hopes have bloomed that now are dead!
Out of the past I seem to see your hand
Reaching to shelter mine as here I stand,
Where all is silence in this darkened room.
Brother of laughter, you who were not grave,
Help us follow on in being brave!
'Dieu Et Mon Droit' graven on your belt
With Britain's Lion triumphing near the Crown-
And this cap- make your presence doubly felt
As thus I closely hold what was your own.
I go for comfort to cathedral walls,
Light up a candle – calling on your name;
And where the Sacred Mystery enthrals,
My prayers arise in sheath of upward flame.
And this I pray – the pure wax to lend
Its virgin brilliance, burning till the end
Unceasingly towards our meeting place
To radiate the welcome on your face!
Lala Fisher, 'The Eroica Symphony'
Sound is not only vibrant in its flow:
Notes create colour as their pitch is made –
They burn upon the air like stars, and fade
As if, their message uttered, they most go.
Here are immortal symbols all aglow,
Eternal numerals divinely played,
Music that proves in measure, tone, and shade;
And spans the whole world like a vivid bow.
When the great requiem its last hath tolled;
And dazzling scherzo flashing forth its rain;
Out of the ocean and the stirring loam,
Visioning welcome as their flags unfold –
Just as they went away, untouched by pain –
The dead of all wars will come marching home!