"AT THE SHRINE OF REMEMBRANCE" (1914 - 1918) - poem by Charles Murray

I have been home for the weekend after arriving in Goulburn on Friday where we had another memorable parade through the town with lots of cheering from well wishes. I sadly missed the Saturday parade and the lunch with Dr Brendon Nelson and dinner with the NSW Governor Mr Hurley. 

To accompany this picture blog, I would like to share a poem written by a  friend of mine: 

Charles Murray 

"AT THE SHRINE OF REMEMBRANCE"

(1914 - 1918)

 In the still, dark quiet here, pre-dawn chill

Seeps through the waiting rememberers;

Discomfort forgotten, lost in the thrall

Of memories, fanning the sacred embers.

 At the hour, now, this place is sacrosanct,

Old ghosts of too-young men and boys attend;

And mingling with the grateful present,

Must wonder at the lives they had to spend.

 Leaving cities, homes, townships far behind,  

They were but dreamers these young men and boys,

Who chose to fight a war a world away,

Dreamed of adventure, of heroic deploys.

 Embracing mothers, wives, siblings, lovers,

Your farewells bright, aloud with boyish cheer;

Neither awe nor trepidation crossed your mind,

You did not know and who would make you hear.

 Maybe it was as well it was that way,

For the hell that broke about your callow years

Devoured your innocence and doused its flame,

Then spat it out disdainful of your fears.

 While on that fateful shore, Gallipoli,

The first instalment of your sacrifice;

Identified the stature of the man,

Brave ANZAC born, without the artifice.

 

 Across that rising ridge of steep ravines,

The Wattle and the Fern, a brotherhood

Is forged and woven with heroic deed,

Delivered, signed and sealed, in its young blood.

The Western Front, a greater forging place,
A blasted landscape, riven and laid bare;
Where fools fire fodder of our human kind,
Unconscionably leave too few to spare.
 

And so the war to end all wars is born,

Spawning a human grief too hard to bear;

Whole continents of stricken mothers grieve,

The Last Post, an anguished nation's prayer.

 

 Remembered now at Cenotaphs and Shrines,

The battle rolls writ deep on granite face;

Measuring still the selfless sacrifice,

And battlefields their final resting place.

 In awe we hold them in our grateful hearts,
Ever mindful of the cost, their lives to pay;
Peace and Freedom, delivered-immolate,
Love no greater, no greater love hath they

 Charles Murray - 2010