For ANZAC Day here are some poems. Interestlying, Billjim – “one who’ll plug for two” – rather than ANZACS was the affectionate name the public had for Australian soldiers in World War I
https://australiansofarabia.wordpress.com/billjim/
ANZACS by Ethel M. Campbell (1866-1954) - printed during World War I, the poem was written by 'E.M.C.' - Ethel M. Campbell - in Durban, South Africa in 1917. Ethel was known for her enthusiastic greetings and farewells of Australian troopships in Durban during World War I.
What mean these great white ships at sea, ploughing their Eastward tack, /
Bearing their precious human freight, bringing the spent men back? /
They mean that Australia has been there, they mean she has played the game,
And her wonderful sons have won their share of everlasting fame.
AN ANZAC CAP by Jessie Pope (1868 – 1941)
It hangs on the wall, a trifle battered,
The wire is warped and the lining tattered.
And the leather inside shows speakingly how
It’s been wet with the sweat of a soldier’s brow.
Month after month, through that fierce campaign—
The bitterest fight that was fought in vain—
It was jammed on an Anzac’s lean, brown poll,
As he pierced his way to a glimpse of goal.
Furlong by furlong, aye, inch by inch,
From the sniping shot to the cold-steel, clinch-
Fists, “rough-housing,” any old tools—
He got there each time by “Rafferty rules.”
Till a shell, with his name on, gave him a call—
And that is the tale of the cap on the wall,
But the sequel, though strange, is an equally true one—
Its owner, thank God, is now wearing a new one.
Jessie Pope. published in “Poverty Bay Herald”, 7 March 1916
Anzac by Sylvia Hobday - I have not been able to find anything out about Sylvia.
There’s a Name we’ve learnt to know, and love –
We’ll n’er forget while Heaven’s above,
And the mountains stand, and waters move
O’er Anzac!
The Name was wrought out of blood and fire,
Through sacrifice and in peril dire –
But the Glory rose Beyond and Higher
Of Anzac!
The Anzac Boys are our Empire’s breed.
They are few or words, but great of deed
And true descendants of Britain’s seed,
Each “Anzac”.
They sail’d ’neath Heaven, and found a Hell,
Where many a Hero fought and fell
As the great guns chim’d their booming knell
O’er Anzac.
And some now rest by the changing seas,
By stony shores swept by gale and breeze –
While stars keep watch o’er the sleep of these –
At Anzac.
O! Christ, in Thy Love, look down, and keep
The souls of the slain, in their long sleep,
Thy comfort bring to the Hearts that weep
For Anzac.
The Name shall ring through the Ages long –
A mighty Paean of Epic Song
Echo’d perchance by Angelic Throng –
Of Anzac!
“Cobbers” by Jessie Pope
They were “cobbers,” that’s Anzac for chum.
But it means rather more than we mean –
A friendship that will not succumb,
Though distance or death intervene.
Adventure, success, and mishap
In boyhood they’d shared, so no wonder
They jumped at the chance of a scrap
And booked with the crowd from ”down under.”
In a narrow Gallipoli trench
They chanced upon glimpses of hell,
And a thirst there was nothing to quench
But a deluging downpour of shell;
Perpetual ridges they took,
They charged and they cursed and they shouted,
But nothing their recklessness shook
Till one of the “cobbers” got “outed.”
The other one came back at night,
Exhausted in body and brain,
And groped round the scene of the fight,
But sought for his “cobber” in vain.
His spirit was heavy with grief,
His outlook was sombre and blotted,
But his bayonet brought him relief
Next, morning— and that’s when he “got it.”
Scene: Midday,Victoria street,
An Anzac (in blue) on each side –
A coo-ee, wild, ringing, and sweet –
The taxicabs swerve and divide.
For traffic they don’t care a toss,
There, right in the middle, they’re meeting;
Stay, let’s draw a curtain across
Where the two long-lost “cobbers” are greeting.
Cicely Fox-Smnith was among the very first female poets of WW1 I researched for this commemorative exhibition project.
“Farewell to ANZAC” by Cicely Fox-Smith (1882 - 1954)
Oh, hump your swag and leave, lads, the ships are in the bay -
We've got our marching orders now, it's time to come away -
And a long good-bye to Anzac Beach - where blood has flowed in vain
For we're leaving it, leaving it, game to fight again!
But some there are will never quit this bleak and bloody shore -
And some that marched and fought with us will fight and march no more;
Their blood has bought till Judgment Day the slopes they stormed so well,
And we're leaving them, leaving them, sleeping where they fell.
(Leaving them, leaving them - the bravest and the best -
leaving them, leaving them, and maybe glad to rest!
We've done our best with yesterday, to-morrow's still our own -
But we're leaving them, leaving them, sleeping all alone!)
Ay, they are gone beyond it all, the praising and the blame,
And many a man may win renown, but none more fair a fame;
They showed the world Australia's lads knew well the way to die;
And we're leaving them, leaving them, quiet where they lie.
(Leaving them, leaving them, sleeping where they died;
Leaving them, leaving them, in their glory and their pride -
Round the sea and barren land, over them the sky,
Oh, We're leaving them, leaving them, quiet where they lie!)
Cicely Fox Smith
https://femalewarpoets.blogspot.com/search?q=Cicely+Fox+Smith
