Within my heart I hear the cry <br />Of loves that suffer, souls that die, <br />And you may have no praise from me <br />For warfare's vast vulgarity; <br />Only the flag of love, unfurled <br />For peace above a weeping world, <br />I follow, though the fiery breath <br />Of murder shrivel me in death. <br />Yet here I stand and bow my head <br />To those whom other banners led, <br />Because within their hearts the clang <br />Of Freedom's summoning trumpets rang, <br />Because they welcomed grisly pain <br />And laughed at prudence, mocked at gain, <br />With noble hope and courage high, <br />And taught our manhood how to die. <br />Praise, praise and love be theirs who came <br />From that red hell of stench and flame, <br />Staggering, bloody, sick, but still <br />Strong with indomitable will, <br />Happy because, in gloomiest night, <br />Their own hearts drummed them to the fight.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anzac-2/
