In the Silence: Armistice Day, 1929

Where wend our thoughts this holy day
While the bugle’s calling, calling?
And all men pause beside the way
(With the sacred silence falling).
In selfish grief do tears yet fall?
Does loss alone this hour recall
And mark their grandeur not at all
With the bugles calling, calling?

Oh, we shall not mourn as weaklings mourn,
When the bugle’s calling, calling,
To be a fallen soldier’s scorn
(With the sacred silence falling).
Pride wakes for those who went the way
That every man shall walk one day.
God grant we walk as straight as they,
With the bugles calling, calling.

Where wend your thoughts, oh, Digger lad,
When the bugle’s calling, calling?
When heads bend down and hearts grow sad
(With the sacred silence falling).
Do you wake again to the olden lust,
To the call to kill, since kill you must —
To the rifle’s crack and the bayonet thrust,
With the bugles calling, calling.

“Oh, I see no steel and I hear no shot
When the bugle’s calling, calling;
Nor hark to glories well forgot
(In the sacred silence falling).
Our thoughts are back with mates who fell,
With the trusted mates we loved so well,
With the men gone West and out of hell,
With the bugles calling, calling.”

Where wend your thoughts, oh, fathers grey,
When the bugle’s calling, calling?
And heads bend low this solemn day
(With the sacred silence falling).
Do you see again a child at play,
Or a stalwart youth who sailed away
With banners flaunting to the day
And the bugles calling, calling?

“Oh, I see no babe and I see no boy,
When the bugle’s calling, calling;
Nor the youth who brought me that sad joy
(With the sacred silence falling).
I see a strong man, straight and clean,
A trusted son on whom I lean.
For my thoughts go out to the might have been,
With the bugles calling, calling.”

Where wend your thoughts, oh, mother grey,
When the bugle’s calling, calling?
For tears must came this holy day,
(With the sacred silence falling)
Do you see a strong son marching past?
Do you hear again the cable cast
Is on the day you looked your last,
With the bugles calling, calling?

“Oh, l see no soldier, khaki clad,
When the bugle’s calling, calling.
I mourn today no soldier lad
(With the sacred silence falling).
But my old heart croons a lullaby,
Here, at my breast, I feel him lie,
The babe they sent away to die,
With the bugles calling, calling.”

“C. J. Dennis”
Herald, 11 November 1929, p6