A poem by CJ Dennis printed in a newspaper.
A poignant poem by CJ Dennis about Anzac soldiers from World War 1. The date was located from Trove.
The Army of the West BY C. J. DENNIS
HERE was tramping, a tramping, a tramp of many feet.
The young men, the strong men were marching in the street,
Marching for a new land, at the Old World's call,
With the sun upon their faces — straight lads and tall,
The chosen of a leal land that yielded of her best.
"Pack your kit," the soldier said, "for the ships sail West,"
Then Anzac, oh, Anzac! A new name on the tongue —
A proud name and a precious name to mark the valiant young —
The valiant young who went so gay across a troubled sea,
The glorious young who slept so deep upon Gallipoli.
There was tramping, a tramping, a tramp of weary feet.
The spent men, the worn men, were marching in the street-
Marching to the wild cheers, home at last from war,
With a wisdom on their faces that we had not known before:
Wisdom of the veteran, earned at our behest,
"Now sound the call," the soldier said, "for the boys gone West."
But Anzac, oh, Anzac! Dearly they bought the name
Who lit upon Gallipoli that everlasting flame —
The flame to light the path for men who live beyond their day;
While in the West the glory grows, as soldiers drift away.
There is tramping, a tramping, a tramp of steady feet.
The grey men, the grave men are marching in the street;
And maimed men and blind men and shattered men are here.
But many a man he marches not who marched last year.
Gathered to his comrades, to the Army of the Blest.
"Close up the ranks," the soldier said, "for the boys march West."
But Anzac, oh, Anzac! Surely no day shall come
When that fame shall not be quickened in the roll of every drum;
In the call of every bugle let the name be vibrant yet,
In a great land of strong men — who never shall forget.
There yet will be a tramping, a tramp of dwindling feet,
As the last old, old men come marching down the street;
Marching now with memories, phantoms at their side,
To the cheering of their strong sons inheriting their pride;
Inheriting a shining gift won in a bloody quest,
"Harkl" the aged soldier says. "The bugles call us West."
Then Anzac! Anzac! Oh, what a mighty cry-
When that great hymn of greeting goes shouting down the sky,
As the last recruit comes marching to the singing of the rest,
And the last man answers roll-call in the Army of the West.
It was in a folder of documents about the history of Legacy. Appears to have been mostly compiled by Legatee Cyril Smith as he has many hand written notes on miscellaneous pieces of paper (some are envelopes addressed to him). Some notes were typed up into a summary of the History of Legacy. Also documents relating to the first time Legacy approached the public for donations in September 1956, including newspaper articles that were reprinted, a schedule of information that was approved to be released to the press, and a list of potential donors that was circulated to Legatees in the hope they could contact the ones they knew personally or professionally.
The documents from this folder have been added in seperate records (see 01262 to 01282).
The folder was part of an attempt to capture history of Legacy, generally from the 1950s.
The documents provide an insight into the working of Legacy, especially in the 1950s. Legatee Cyril Smith and others were detailing their experiences and knowledge for the future. This poem might have been included for its portrayal of Anzacs.