Lone Pine

Lone Pine! Lone Pine! Our hearts are numbly aching For those who come no more, Our boys who sleep the sleep that knows no waking, Besides the Dardan’s shore. Through all the years, with glory sad and sombre, Their names will deathless shine; No bugle call can wake them from their slumber: Lone Pine! Lone Pine! They did not quail, they did not pause or ponder, They counted not the odds; The order came, the foe were waiting yonder, The rest was with the gods. Forth from their trenches at the signal leaping, They charged the Turkish line, And death charged too, a royal harvest reaping, Lone Pine! Lone Pine! Nought could withstand that onrush, backward driven, The foemen broke and fled.