The starshells float above, the
bayonets glisten;
We bear our fallen friend
without a sound;
Below the waiting legions lie and listen
To us, who march upon their
burial-ground.

Wound in the flag of England, here we
lay him;
The guns will flash and thunder
o'er the grave;
What other winding sheet should now
array him,
What other music should salute
the brave?

As goes the Sun-god in his chariot
glorious,
When all his golden banners are
unfurled,
So goes the soldier, fallen but
victorious,
And leaves behind a twilight in
the world.

And those who come this way, in days
hereafter,
Will know that here a boy for
England fell,
Who looked at danger with the eyes
of laughter,
And on the charge his days

were ended well.

One last salute; the bayonets clash and
glisten;
With arms reversed we go
without a sound:
One more has joined the men who lie
and listen
To us, who march upon their
burial-ground.

John Helston
1915