THOUGHTS FOR THE TIMES.
. The Dead. Blow out. you bugles, over the rich Do iih ! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, lies made us rarer girts than gold, These laid the world away; poured out the red, Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to ho Of work and joy that unhoped serene, That men call age; and those who would have been Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us. for our dearth. Holiness, lacked so long, and Dove and Pain. Honour has come back, as a king, to earth, And paid his subjects with a royal
wage; And Nobleness walks in our ways again; And we have come into our heritage. —Rupert Brooke.
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Hokitika Guardian, 24 April 1924, Page 2
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126THOUGHTS FOR THE TIMES. Hokitika Guardian, 24 April 1924, Page 2
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