There’s a lonely stretch of hillocks: <br />There’s a beach asleep and drear: <br />There’s a battered broken fort beside the sea. <br />There are sunken trampled graves: <br />And a little rotting pier: <br />And winding paths that wind unceasingly. <br />There’s a torn and silent valley: <br />There’s a tiny rivulet <br />With some blood upon the stones beside its mouth. <br />There are lines of buried bones: <br />There’s an unpaid waiting debt : <br />There’s a sound of gentle sobbing in the South.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anzac-cove/
