Seager, Alexandrine – February 1916
THE CALL OF THE DEAD.
When the wind moans in the trees.
I think of them there asleep,
Hushed by the murmuring breeze
And the crooning waters deep.
Each wrapped in his blanket grey,
Sleeps sound on earth’s mother-breast-
The gallant, the grave, the gay,
How soon to some Boys comes rest.
Far down the mine holds in trust
Rich treasure, and buried deep,
But never such priceless dust
As the Turkish hillsides keep.
Now over Australia’s dead
The enemy flag floats high,
While ever for vengeance red
Those sacrificed thousands cry.
And YOU! Whom your country called,
And called but, alas! in vain-
Answer your brothers – answer now,-
Or bear the black brand of Cain.
February 26th 1916
