When this old world, her task has done,
When shines no more yon setting sun,
When trumpet blast calls forth all men,
Say, – who will be the heroes then?
The men who walked through seas of blood,
Rode o'er the hearts that bled — rough shod,
With sword unsheathed and eyes aflame,
Athirst for vengeance and for fame?
Or he who sails from shore to shore,
And distant foreign lands explore,
His name be heard on every tongue,
His praise by all the world be sung?
Ah no! Methinks when Heaven is won,
The man who'll hear the glad “well done,"
Is he who fought another fight,
The battle cry — "For truth and right.”
Who conquers self, and passions strong,
And through his life may hear along
The scars of conflicts; victories gained
And nobler heights his soul attained.
Though sad his heart and pressed with care,
His lot in life be hard to bear,
With smiling lips he hides the pain
That other hearts some joy might gain.
The world may ne’er his name have heard,
Its fortune and its fame unshared,
Forgotten here his deeds of love —
Methinks they’re written up above.
And when, at last; all must appear,
Their sentence spoken loud and clear,
In foremost ranks of the hero band,
This nameless soul shall ever stand.
When shines no more yon setting sun,
When trumpet blast calls forth all men,
Say, – who will be the heroes then?
The men who walked through seas of blood,
Rode o'er the hearts that bled — rough shod,
With sword unsheathed and eyes aflame,
Athirst for vengeance and for fame?
Or he who sails from shore to shore,
And distant foreign lands explore,
His name be heard on every tongue,
His praise by all the world be sung?
Ah no! Methinks when Heaven is won,
The man who'll hear the glad “well done,"
Is he who fought another fight,
The battle cry — "For truth and right.”
Who conquers self, and passions strong,
And through his life may hear along
The scars of conflicts; victories gained
And nobler heights his soul attained.
Though sad his heart and pressed with care,
His lot in life be hard to bear,
With smiling lips he hides the pain
That other hearts some joy might gain.
The world may ne’er his name have heard,
Its fortune and its fame unshared,
Forgotten here his deeds of love —
Methinks they’re written up above.
And when, at last; all must appear,
Their sentence spoken loud and clear,
In foremost ranks of the hero band,
This nameless soul shall ever stand.
IVY. Londonderry.
Poem: The Witness, 16th May 1919
Image: No Man's Land by Maurice Galbraith Cullen
