[Editor: A poem published in Aussie: The Australian Soldiers’ Magazine, no. 2, 16 February 1918.]
To My Home.
I often think of those who wept —
How precious is their memory yet —
Few words they said, their silent grief
No words of mine could give relief
When now I think of that great hour,
I strangely wonder can the power
Of love divine so mighty be
That it should tend unworthy me.
To you, perhaps, I have not been
All that I might, had I foreseen
The cloud of war so soon to burst
In kindness I’d have been the first.
But fate has willed that through long days
Shall I regret my thoughtless ways.
Those times have passed beyond recall,
Yet from at home comes “love from all.”
This loving message so sincere,
Means something more to me out here.
Should I be spared to see this through,
I’ll start afresh ’twixt me and you.
And if at home I see a chance
Of doing good, I’ll think of France,
But if I fall and live no more
God bless you all, and au revoir.
Aussie: The Australian Soldiers’ Magazine, no. 2, 16 February 1918, page 12
au revoir = (French) goodbye, until we see each other again (literally “till seeing again”)
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