The Twenty-Fifth Of April

THIS day is Anzac Day! Made sacred by the memory Of those who fought and died, and fought and live, And gave the best that men may give For love of Land. It dawns once more, And, though on alien sea and shore The guns are silent all, Yet we with pride recall The deeds which gave it immortality. Great deeds are deathless things! The doer dies, but not the deed, And, when upon that fateful April day Our Anzacs, throwing all but love away, Gave life and limb for Honour's sake, With Freedom tremblingly at stake, They lit a beacon-light Imperishable, bright, That evermore the Nation's soul shall heed. Not Peace, not Peace alone Can make a nation great and good And bring it that full stature, strength, and grace That fit it for an age-enduring place In men's regard. Through storm and strife It runs to sweet and noble life; For through its veins there runs The valour of great sons Who died to give it stately nationhood. This day is Anzac Day! Made sacred by the thrilling thought Of those who proved their souls, it reappears; And thus 'twill dawn, and dawn through future years Till Time our petty deeds efface, And others, dwelling in our place, Tell o'er, with tongue and pen, The glorious tale again Of how on beach and crag the Anzacs fought.