Anzac Cove by Leon Maxwell Gellert

They Shall Grow Not Old © Sarah Vernon (prints, posters, cushions, cards)

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.

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