III

‘ Tis passing wonderful that they,

The little boys of yesterday

Who played with us, who teased us too,

Should such tremendous actions do.

No praise, no honour is too high

For those who gave so cheerfully:

Gave up the wonder of the spring,

Gave up the wealth that summers bring,

Gave up the gold of autumn's store,

Leaving us richer than before.

Unflinching bravery of soul!

Ring out your splendid deathless toll,

Ring down the years untiringly

In the hearts of the children-yet-to-be.

The carillon of your ideals

You'll hear again in their sweet peals;

God grant that we may squarely fight

For all you held to be upright.