Upon the margin of a rugged shore <br />There is a spot now barren, desolate, <br />A place of graves, sodden with human gore <br />That Time will hallow, Memory consecrate. <br /> <br />There lie the ashes of the mighty dead, <br />The youth who lit with flame Obscurity, <br />Fought true for Freedom, won thro' rain of lead <br />Undying fame, their immortality. <br /> <br />The stranger wand'ring when the war is over, <br />The ploughman there driving his coulter deep, <br />The husbandman who golden harvests reap- <br />From hill and ravine, from each plain and cover <br />Will hear a shout, see phantoms on the marge, <br />See men again making a deathless charge.<br /><br />John William Streets<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gallipoli-6/
