I stand beside these rank, grassed, mounded piles of soil
‘Neath which the mouldering dead lie in repose.
Their type of death reflects, I guess, the toil
We made then of living, which is fair enough.
Though what is it do you suppose
They thought about and lived life for?
That question might be too tough
For any one person’s answer; too severe.
For Heaven only knows
The forgotten wisdom
That lies now buried here.
By Michael Shave
Written while resting in a German WWI war cemetery somewhere in France:
FILE PHOTO: French children tend the graves of Australians killed in battle on the Western Front. AWM E05925
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