Anzac Cove by Leon Maxwell Gellert
There’s a lonely stretch of hillocks;
There’s a beach asleep and drear,
There’s a battered broken fort beside the sea.
There are sunken trampled graves;
And a little rotting pier;
And winding paths that wind unceasingly.
There’s a torn and silent valley;
There’s a tiny rivulet
With some blood upon the stones beside its mouth.
There are lines of buried bones;
There’s an unpaid waiting debt;
There’s a sound of gentle sobbing in the South.
Leon Maxwell Gellert (1892-1977) – January, 1916.
First Night History 
Your card is a lovely (and appropriate) backdrop to this heartfelt poem.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Thanks, Pete. I’m sure you recognise the card from my Great Uncle Norman posts. I have Vernon relations who died at Gallipoli but I need to do some more research before I can write a post. My father didn’t know enough and what he did, he forgot!
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