(from the epitaph for Charles Stewart Lawrence, from his son)
The shades of old soldiers
gather to honour the
fallen-at-last
fewer by the year
stooped with age
rigid with pride
"I move among the
men of the bush
I walk among the outdoor people
and the mountains are empty now"
No solitary fire lights his face no leave
crackle under his careful feet
The springs and rivers
gurgle unknown tears
of mourning and
the birds mark his
passing into shadow
with solitary song
under wireless sky
mighty in kindness
strong in gentleness
great in meekness
fallen at last
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