Going West

‘Under the disability of age and the effects of war, 60,000 returned Diggers have died since peace was declared. This total now equals the number of Australian soldiers who perished at the front.’ — News Item

The Diggers are passing, one by one,
Drifting away to the West;
No more to the sound of the thundering gun,
Like their old mates, long at rest;
But quietly, with their friends about,
To the one Great Peace of all.
The old, grey Diggers are falling out;
And there’s never a bugle call.

There is never a bugle sounding now
As the grey men disappear;
Heroes once of the shining brow,
Blithe youths of yesteryear.
Now tired and broken, spent by war,
They answer the roll-call yet once more
Ere into the West they roam.
But, oh, what a welcome there awaits
When friend greets friend by the gleaming gates,
And the Boys at last come Home.

“Den”
Herald, 17 March 1932, p8