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Apr 2017
They were sentenced to toil
on foreign soil; to leave
their homes for the Empire.
They were told to wallow
in the mire; too young to
understand the state of
Things: they were driven by the fire
of pride, love, and mateship.
Forced to age past their true
physical years; to see
young blood drip from young knees,
tears drip down old, pure dreams
of their homes allowing glee
in the dances of their own.

Let not that true, free fire
slip from our souls. Let not
their true eyes leave our own.
Let not their voices leave
our own. Let not their breath
leave our safe lungs. Let not
their calloused hands part
with our own.

Sentenced to toil on a
foreign soil: let not their
memory melt away
into dust and cold rain;
For they are ours, and, by
God, let not the wild and
rampant passing of time
dissolve them in waters
foreign to our own.
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.” - Laurence Binyon

Today was ANZAC Day, a day where we commemorate the great sacrifice of the many servicemen and women who tirelessly give their lives to serve our country. In particular, we remember the courage of those who fought in the landings at Gallipoli, a ****** conflict that saw the death of many of our young.

Lest we forget.
Written by
Byron H Cairncross  20/M/Australia
   Eric W
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