(To The Men Of The 2/5 Gloucester Regiment)

I’d not have missed one single scrap of pain That brought me to such friends, and them to me; And precious is the smallest agony, The greatest, willingly to bear again-- Cruel frost, night vigils, death so often ta’en By Golgothas untold from Somme to Sea. Duty’s a grey thing; Friendship valorously Rides high above all Fortune without stain.

Their eyes were stars within the blackest night Of Evil’s trial. Never mariner Did trust so in the ever-fixéd star As I in those. And so their laughter sounded-- Trumpets of Victory glittering in sunlight; Though Hell’s power ringed them in, and night surrounded.