Ewart Alan Mackintosh

So you were David's father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
...

Oh gay were we in spirit
In the hours of the night
When we lay in rest by Albert
And waited for the fight;
...

The pipes in the streets were playing bravely,
The marching lads went by
With merry hearts and voices singing
My friends marched out to die;
...

'Lads, you're wanted, go and help,'
On the railway carriage wall
Stuck the poster, and I thought
Of the hands that penned the call.
...

Out on the hillside the wild birds crying,
A little low wind and the white clouds flying,
A little low wind from the southward blowing.
What should I know of its coming and going ?
...

Out of the womb of time and dust of the years forgotten,
Spirit and fire enclosed in mutable flesh and bone,
Came by a road unknown the thing that is me for ever,
The lonely soul of a man that stands by itself alone.
...

On Vimy Ridge four months ago
We lived and fought, my friends and I,
And watched the kindly dawn come slow,
Peace bringing from the eastern sky.
...

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward —
'That is, unless some damned
Airman has blundered,
If the map isn't right
We'll be a funny sight.'
So as they tramped along
...

The air is still, the light winds blow
Too quietly to wake you now.
Dreamer, you dream too well to know
'Whose hand set death upon your brow,
...

So I shall never see you more.
The northern winds will blow in vain
Brave and heart-easing off the shore.
You will not sail with them again.
...

In the Glen where I was young
Blue-bell stems stood close together,
In the evenings dew-drops hung
Clear as glass above the heather.
...

City of hopes and golden dreaming
Set with a crown of tall grey towers,
City of mist that round you streaming
Screens the vision of vanished hours,
...

Beyond the woodland's shading,
Beyond the sun-kissed field,
Where laughs in joy unfading
...

Along the dusty highway,
And through the little town,
The people of the country
Are riding up and down.
...

The hedge on the left, and the trench on the right,
And the whispering, rustling wood between,
And who knows where in the wood to-night
Death or capture may lurk unseen.
...

The tattered grass of No Man's Land
Is white with snow to-day,
And up and down the deadly slopes
The ghosts of childhood play.
...

In Oxford now the lamps are lit.
The city bells ring low,
And up and down the silent town
The ghosts of friendship go.
...

When you and I are buried
With grasses over head,
The memory of our fights will stand
Above this bare and tortured land,
We knew ere we were dead.
...

Gone is now the boast of power,
Strength to strike our foes again,
God of battles in this hour
...

Here in the narrow broken way
Where silently we go.
Steadfast above their valiant clay
Forgotten crosses show.
...