Edwin Greenslade (Dryblower) Murphy

Seconds of silence, heartbeats of sorrow,

  Second that tell of our soldiers asleep;

Sleeping till God's own reveille tomorrow

  Calls their brave souls from the dust and the deep.

Soldiers, civilians and mothers who bore them,

  Keep the Day sacred no rebel shall wrack,

When the maimed monsters, the white flag before them,

  Bowed to the braves who had beaten them back.

Peace laurels here to their mem'ry we lay

On Armistice Day, their Armistice Day!


Red poppies grow near the crosses above them;

  Red poppies peep where they lie all unknown;

Little French lassies who knew but to love them

  Whisper a pray'r in that hell-harried zone.

Softly the Angelus drifts o'er their dreaming,

  Lightly the peasant folk tread where they trod,

Safe till the great Resurrectional beaming,

  Shrouded by Mother Earth, guarded by God.

Heroes of homeland, crumbling to clay,

  Think you of those on your Armistice Day!


Lest you forget what their sacrifice saved you,

  Turn to their widows and orphans who pine;

Here, if the Hun and his horde had enslaved you,

  Long would you rot in the mire and the mine.

Walk you barefooted, or walk you well-booted,

  Pause you and pray when the poppies are red;

Stand to attention and stand you saluted,

  Honour the wounded, the weak and the dead.

Remember your saviours who fell in the fray,

  On Armistice Day  -  Our Armistice Day!


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