The Bond Of Brotherhood Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

Not for their grandsires' homes they fell, -
For names passed down from sire to son;
Not for the soil whereon they dwell,
The earth their fathers' strength has won.
Far o'er the deep their dust is blown
Thro' lands their fathers have not known.

O ye who ask why thus they go
To fight and fall in nameless lands, -
And why, against so far a foe,
Strong brother by strong brother stands,
Shall roaming sea and wheeling sun
Make sundered hearts that beat as one?

The names that once had nought to tell,
They bid our hearts beat high today:
And every scene where Britons fell
Shall live in glory far away,
And every spot where flowed their blood, -
High-altar of our brotherhood.

O watcher of the pine-clad West,
O dwellers in the East or South,
Thro' their strong limbs your shores are blest
Who lately left the harbour-mouth.
Be proud, be joyful, while you mourn
For those who never shall return.

Whether from East or South or West
Wander the brothers of the breed,
The names they know shall e'er attest
In that far land a home indeed,
Since there men's hearts may leap with pride,
To think how 'hence our kindred died.'