“THE PITY OF IT.”
(From Spectator, of October 31.) Never to know the day was ours; Never to hear my comrades’ shout “Victory! see the enemy cowers;” Never to see the Orman icut. Never to hear of England’s glory; Never to know our cause was won; Never to hear the old, old story: “British soldier, well done, well done.” 0 Death, this is thy sting; 0 Grave, this is thy victory. Yet shall thy name in town and village Graven in brass or lasting stone, Serve as a seed for patriots’ tillage, Blood of our blood, and bone of / our bone. 1:11 When the cause is won and the hells are ringing, You will live in councry side; And “forty years on” there will beys he singing Your memory still, young England s pride I 0 Death, where is thy sting? 0 Grave, where is thy victory ? , —S.L.U.
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Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXV, Issue 10, 13 January 1915, Page 7
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148“THE PITY OF IT.” Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXV, Issue 10, 13 January 1915, Page 7
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