AUSTRALIA’S ANZAC SONS
Tread softly now this hallowed ground
but wear the dust with pride,
for mingled with this ancient soil
our Aussie ash abides.
To sense the golden wattle sprig,
to see the red gums tall,
embodied in their crimson flow
our land and nature call.
Though beaten in a senseless raid
the world’s respect was won,
an enemy turned to friend indeed
our sons and theirs now one.
Eight thousand souls departed here
their flesh, a richer earth
that’s greened these hills for 90 years
their spirit, a nation’s birth.
A heritage won, a legacy given
that’s stood the test of time,
of mateship, grit and courage clear,
these bells forever chime.
Whilst larrikin and defiant they
the ultimate price have paid,
no greater honor now bestowed:
The ‘Anzac Spirit’ displayed.
Comment by Peter Baskerville
on ANZAC Day Poems
AUSTRALIA’S ANZAC SONS
Tread softly now this hallowed ground
but wear the dust with pride,
for mingled with this ancient soil
our Aussie ash abides.
To sense the golden wattle sprig,
to see the red gums tall,
embodied in their crimson flow
our land and nature call.
Though beaten in a senseless raid
the world’s respect was won,
an enemy turned to friend indeed
our sons and theirs now one.
Eight thousand souls departed here
their flesh, a richer earth
that’s greened these hills for 90 years
their spirit, a nation’s birth.
A heritage won, a legacy given
that’s stood the test of time,
of mateship, grit and courage clear,
these bells forever chime.
Whilst larrikin and defiant they
the ultimate price have paid,
no greater honor now bestowed:
The ‘Anzac Spirit’ displayed.