THE FALLEN
HESE are not the first who were young and died ‘they were not sure for what, spending their innocence like kids who drop a penny in the slot. Their bodies now are fallen stars faint in the memory of their friends, their eats are deaf to praise or grief, nothing we say can make amends. Their flesh is wasted, their seed spilled, nothing can help them, nothing atones; they were defeated, man by man; truth is bitter, crying from their bones. | Tongues that melt in the dust are silent, dumb as the crosses stuck’ above; arms rotting on the battlefield cannot invade the bed of love. They died quickly, as quickly . were thrust in the shallow grave to sleep for ever. Girls, these are no good to you, not even the brave, the kind or clever. What shall we thinkP The world rind lost should wear their memory like a scar. What can we say, wringing our hands, or lingering in the public bar? They bought us all there was to buy, Left us their share in the estate, this going concern. For us, not them, the doomsday and the judgment wait. Think or forget. It matters little to these defeated. But be sure, though we may squander what they saved, their private fortune is secure. In desert and forgotten places, bright in the shadow of our doom, among that scattered, pitiful dust .the small weed, honour, springs in
bloom.
A. R. D.
Fairburn
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New Zealand Listener, Volume 18, Issue 460, 16 April 1948, Page 30
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246THE FALLEN New Zealand Listener, Volume 18, Issue 460, 16 April 1948, Page 30
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