A symbol of valour, a wind-whipped rag
Salute! to the Regiment’s passing flag.
On that ‘broidered banner old battle names
Bring our cold hearts comfort like leaping flames.
What pictures they bring of the days gone by
When our hopes were green and our hearts beat high,
The thundering charge with the blue steel drawn
On the night-long ride, to the rush at dawn.
Through the valley’s sun or the khamseen’s breath,
Through battle and boredom and sudden death,
Only those who rode in those days now lost
Can measure the effort or check the cost.
For faith of the living and vanished dead
Is woven as one through each silken thread,
Illusion, Adventure and Youth are gone,
With years, like ghost horsemen, galloping on.
Last roll-call is over – last orders read –
The Past is dead and must bury its dead,
Today to the pomp of procession brave,
This last time gathered, we fill in its grave.
‘Ere we furl it at last with its banner spread,
Let it dip in salute to the gallant dead:
The trumpet is silent, Last Post is o’er
And the fiery horsemen shall ride no more.
(James Henry Sturgiss)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Youth Poems, Past Poems, Courage Poems, Efforts Poems, Adventure PoemsBased on Keywords: night-long, boredom, roll-call, wind-whipped, khamseen