State Library of NSW
[Page 152]
The anguish of the suffering and the weakness of the strongAnd the thousand things that make the soldier's name.
You cannot know the bravery that leads the soldier forthDefying shells and guns that sweep the spaceAnd mow as with Time's sickle from the pride of Nature's youthAs toward the foe he boldly turns his face
And the tiny little dug-outs where the weary men are crammedFor the moment just to stay Exhaustion's gripAnd the shells discordant screeching drown the rifle's noisy dinThe ghastly roar, then moans from someone's lips
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