Colin F. Jones
ANZAC DAY, 2001
A man without a shadow to cast,
Entombed in a marble stone,
Rests below the painted mast,
Where his country’s flag is flown
He does not hear the bugle sound,
Nor see his mates’ salute,
For his body lies in foreign ground
With other perished troops
And yet on every ANZAC Day,
His spirit from the stone,
Reaches out to join the lay
Lest he be left alone
All the people there rejoice,
Wipe sadder tears away,
As the veterans’ sing in richer voice
And bow their heads to pray
In their hearts and in their souls
Live the memories of war,
That flags half-mast upon their poles
In sadness yet restore
Along the paths the wives and mothers
Across the lawns do stare,
Upon the dads and sons of others
Who gather everywhere.
Their service is our heritage!
For this our soldiers brave
Died to build a social bridge
To the Unknown Soldier’s grave
That spans across the seas of time
To link with National pride,
The Territories and States divine
Where love and peace preside.
©Copyright 2001 by Colin F. Jones