POETRY.
DIES 1RAE.
PATIENCE a little niece and then the Day Which hurls us 'gainat the Foe in deadly strife. 'We know the price our Fathers had to pay That bought for us, their sons, a larger life, And if we give our all we give no more than they.
Through Sacrifice the path of Duty Ike;
The Sacrifice we willingly have made And yielded up our homes and all we prize To vindicate the right, and undismayed Tight, whilst aloft the British battle emblem flies.
So let the Day come soon ; we will not boast Nor shriek against the Foe hysteric hate. In silence we patrol our hallowed coast Or search the wintry Northern Seas which Fate Math given us to hold against the foreign host.
Visions of gardens fair where once we trod, 'Whispers of voices now and ever dear Haunt us too much perchance we kiss the rod
And murmur, as our Destiny draws near, This prayer, "Quit ye like men and leave the rest to God." '
B. H. W.
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