THE BOYS WHO MARCHED AWAY
Trumpets and drums and marching feet
Out of the past, their echos flow
Banners that flaunted through the street
Bright eyes, tear wet, that gazed below.
Visions of glory and glow
Light hearts of youth that dared the fray
Lost in the mists of the long ago.
Where are the boys, who marched away?
Far o'er the sea, their ghostly fleet
Rocks at its moorings, to and fro
There where the fen and ocean meet
Proudly, their column moves, and slow.
Africa and Italy lie low, lie low
Berlin is fallen, and the smoke is cleared away
Where are the hearts that knew their throe
Where are the brave boys who marched away?
Young eyes that gazed beyond defeat
Sleep by the Rhone and the Po
Ah, dreams of that terrible battle head
Are under the poppies, or under the snow.
Silently they await that Last Great Day
And desert, and steppe, and torrent know
Where are the boys who marched away?
And Lord, when the silver trumpet shall blow
Calling us to come to our battle fray
Grant us to look on high and know
Where the boys are who marched away.
These are copyright 1996 and reprinted with permission.