11 JANUARY 1946, Page 11

ROADSIDE GRAVE NEAR S'HERTOGENBOSCH

IN the West the sun is newly, gloriously dying, As it has died so many tens of times since my own death.

Once I was newly dead, and mourned, I was still vivid in their memories.

They were incredulous that I no longer lived, Ate, fought, drank tea and talked And laughed after the battle, and slept away exhaustion.

But now the rutted ground is old and sour ; The reedy.grasses, withered in November rain, Nod now familiarly to my fading cross. Now I am cold and lonely in this sand, This alien, bitter sand of Holland where I lie.

Gone, save for a burning, choking memory In the hearts of those who loved me. GOVAN LORD.