Kitchener's March

by Amelia Josephine Burr

NOT the muffled drums for him
⁠Nor the wailing of the fife.
Trumpets blaring to the charge
⁠Were the music of his life.
Let the music of his death
⁠Be the feet of marching men.
Let his heart a thousandfold
⁠Take the field again!

Of his patience, of his calm,
⁠Of his quiet faithfulness,
England, build your hero's cairn!
⁠He was worthy of no less.
Stone by stone, in silence laid,
⁠Singly, surely, let it grow.
He whose living was to serve
⁠Would have had it so.

There's a body drifting down
⁠For the mighty sea to keep.
There's a spirit cannot die
⁠While one heart is left to leap
In the land he gave his all,
⁠Steeled alike to praise and hate.
He has saved the life he spent—
⁠Death has struck too late.

Not the muffled drums for him
⁠Nor the wailing of the fife—
Trumpets blaring to the charge
⁠Were the music of his life.
Let the music of his death
⁠Be the feet of marching men.
Let his heart a thousandfold
⁠Take the field again!