1945
by Jessica Foote

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When unto the quiet seas I turn my eyes,
And listen to the soft-drawn lap
pass down the sands,
And watch the ship lights fade into
the thin grey mist,
I wonder if you’ll e’er return again
From that far-off unhappy battle-land.

Or if like other heroes of our day
You’ll slip across the firing line
into Eternity.

 

 

 

 

 

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