To Our Noble Dead Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

To our noble dead,
In their multitudes,
Who from Fate's falling dice
Lived a mere interlude,
Within this span of toil;
Some never seeing
The light of day,
Ever at rest,
A plethora of potential,
Better than the best
Most lacking fame,
Who paved the way
For us so undeserving
Upon this reverential
Earthly paradise;
May it be said
We till the soil
And plough the lowly furrow
Of our own abortive brows
In their unrecorded name