And at night the fireflies dancing
Were the light of men advancing.
Swift his hands. His brain was cool.
"Hell," he said, "poor Tom's at school."
Then he rested on the beach
Just beyond the ripples' reach,
Home and sunset in his dream
Till the shrapnel's quicker gleam
Found his heart, and found his head—
Found him dreaming, left him dead.
And they buried him at night
With men fallen in the fight.
So he fought and went away
With the glory of the day,
And no hatred in his heart
When the great ways met to part.
On a beach without a name
He died sleeping, robbed of fame,
Just before the day grew dim.
Tom, his brother, envied him.
SONG OF THE DARDANELLES
THE wireless tells and the cable tells
How our boys behaved by the Dardanelles.
Some thought in their hearts "Will our boys make good?"
We knew them of old and we knew they would!
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
We were mates of old and we knew they would.
They laughed and they larked and they loved likewise,
