To Our Beloved Dead

The memorial comprises a semi-circular wall and seat, with pillars surmounted by white stone urns at either end and a column with a sundial in the centre.

[2] The inscriptions on the wall and sundial read:[3] Approach this shrine of stone beneath the trees and drink its whiteness, while the shadows move Like the slow march of Time; mellowed and sweet.

Let the fine memories Held in this quiet guard of love, Thy soul with limpid mirroring repeat.

Above its chasteness the faint opal sky Of dawn, the turquoise of the burning day, The ruby vapours of the sunset, float Like window-stains to lie Tempering the sombre-shadowed bay That bids thy prayer, sequestered and devote.

Time is no banquet for the barren jaws Of death; it is received into a womb Made quick with the eternal hour of God.

Had they known Their anguished fall was but a nothingness, Would they, with blenched desire Paling, have cried, “What can atone?” Those shouts thy answer.

Well that their prodigal flight The dragging hours’ probation hides When life is summons and the soul is doubt!

Your hurrying life hoards the enduring mood That steads the grown man’s pain When, like these dead, prepared to die, Ye hear the call with manhood’s even blood.