15 MARCH 1902, Page 17

POETRY.

(It's . . . . strange to die.) Two years' good labour and the end in sight, Colenso . . . . Spion Kop . . . and this little fight : And this the end . . . it doesn't seem quite right.

'Was thinking when they fired—

(No pain . . . just tired . .)

Of all the other fellows who had died—

Strange, what ?—and as I thought somehow I tried To think about the—well, the Other Side.

The roar and rush of death— (Was that your breath

Upon my cheek, old boy, or was it—?) well Glory and joy of leading where they fell— I go alone, with two years' work to tell. Hard, but we did not shirk. . . . Two years' good work . .

My love to all my people. . . and the rest .'. .

You dear old boys perhaps this is the beat

Two years' good work . . . . and finis dulce est . .

Pretoria, December 1st, 1901.

EDOA.R WALLACE,