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In honour of all the men and women who served our country in all aspects of
war and peace.
This was written during the First World War and no name is credited with this fine work.
DAWN---APRIL 9th, 1917
Not yet Dawn--and the gray mists lie thick on the
Here and there, like a lightning flash, blazons a burst of red.
Thro' the dark that lies on a storm-swept world-- heavy and cold as lead.
Not yet Dawn--and the world' awake; waiting the hours away--
Waiting the word that they know must come--come e'er the East is gray--
Word that shall herald, in death and doom, eve of the Huns' great DAY.
Gunners stand in their dep-dug pits, hard by their high-piled shells--
Guns all trained on the Ridge's slope--there where the Hun horde dwells--
Waiting to loose on the German line flames of a hundred Hells.
Seconds dragging with leaden feet--minutes as long as days--
Faint gray streaks in the Eastern sky, piercing the heavy haze--
When, oh, when, will the minute strike? When will the great guns blaze?
When, oh, when, will the minute strike? Dawn's creeping up so fast--
When-----------In the crash of a riven world waiting is done at last--
Gone are the doubts, and the hopes, and fears, now that the vigil's past.
Guns a-bark like the hounds of Hell! Guns that but now were dumb,
Bellow deep in their iron throats, now that their hour has come,
And their song to some is a hymn of joy--music of death to some.
Thro' the dusk and the driving sleet, out thro' the steel-shod rain,
Go the men of the Western Lands, fearing not death nor pain--
Going gaily and caring not who shall come back again.
Where are the Huns who would hold the Ridge,
boasting their iron might?
Where are the Legions of Kultur now, faced by the Hosts of Right?
Dead, or captured, or--hero Huns!--scattered in craven flight.
A new Flag floats in a freer air, high on the Ridge's crown--
A new Flag floats o'er the shattered square, there in the shelltorn town,--
The Flag of Freedon's unfurled again--the Eagle of Kultur's down.
Military Records Contact: Daniel B. Breen
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