The Stretcher-Bearers Poem by Ross DixPeek

The Stretcher-Bearers



The Stretcher-Bearers

Upon a hill windswept and bleak
Shoulders slumped and most meek,
Came four warriors’ worn and weary,
Atop that awful, silent eyrie,
Twixt the four a fallen comrade,
Their tender tears a silent serenade,
The soldier carried from battle’s lair,
Great sorrow awaft in the fevered air
Their Eyes most dead and most dull,
Dark burning orbs in a benumbed skull,
And on that hill that very morn,
Did they bury their comrade, of life shorn
And beneath the virgin earth does he now rest
Only a rifle and helmet to mark the very best,
And again, did they melt away,
Back to battle’s torrid fray,
In their cluttered minds a warriors’ farewell,
And the tolling of yet another bell!

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Ross DixPeek

Ross DixPeek

Salisbury, Rhodesia
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