Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
IsandhlwanaJohn McCrae (18721918)
S
The grey of a pauper’s gown,
A soldier’s grave in Zululand,
And a woman in Brecon Town.
(Mothers o’ Brecon Town!)
My eyes for tears and his for joy
When he went from Brecon Town,
His for the flags and the gallant sights,
His for the medals and his for the fights,
And mine for the dreary, rainy nights
At home in Brecon Town.
(Come back to Brecon Town!)
Shouldn’t I know?—I was there to see:
(It ’s far to Brecon Town!)
It ’s me that keeps it trim and drest
With a briar there and a rose by his breast—
The English flowers he likes the best
That I bring from Brecon Town.
(We’re back to Brecon Town),
To talk of the things that used to be
(Grey ghosts of Brecon Town);
I know the look o’ the land and sky,
And the bird that builds in the tree near by,
And times I hear the jackal cry,
And me in Brecon Town.
The dawn comes creeping down;
It ’s day in far off Zululand
And night in Brecon Town.