 | Ballads of the War |  |
A Graveside Memory at Colesberg
Riddled with bullets, shattered with shell;
Never a cry was lifted o'er them,
Never a tear above them fell.
Muttered, “Poor fellows, so worn and thin!”
Helped us to hollow the trench to hide them,
Helped us to carefully lay them in.
All their battle wrath passed away;
It seemed the hearts of the sundered races
Were one for love of the dead that day.
“Ashes to ashes! dust to dust!”
And gave our mates to the last of nurses—
The pitiful earth in whose peace we trust.
Stepped to the grave and prayed a prayer,
Never a son of a British woman
But felt the breath of the Lord was there.
Prayed to the Father of foe and friend
To look from Heaven at last and stay it,
Make of this terrible war an end.
A hymn to the God of the warless years;
The tender heart of a girl came o'er us;
We sobbed, and turned from the grave in tears.
Note.—An old Bedford Modern boy, Rupert Brearey, now at the front with the R.A.M. Corps, writes as follows, from Colesberg, under date January 7th, 1900:—
“One of the Boer Medical Officers rode to us under a Red Cross flag and asked us to go and bury our dead, which, of course, we did. But the sight of those poor fellows lying on the hill, some of them dreadfully riddled with bullets, I can never forget. The Boers were very good; in fact, one would hardly have thought that they were our enemies. They talked to us quite freely, and helped us to dig the grave and to carry the dead. There was one very touching little incident. After our Major had read the Burial Service (from the Prayer Book L. and D. gave me in January, 1896), one of the Boers stepped out and said a short prayer, hoping the war would soon end, and while we stood with heads uncovered they sang a hymn in Dutch. It cut our fellows up very much indeed; in fact we could not speak for some time.”
| Ballads of the War | |