The Lost Generation

The Lost Generation

Edna Jaques November 1 1933
The Lost Generation

The Lost Generation

Edna Jaques November 1 1933

The Lost Generation

Edna Jaques

Surely it can’t be nearly twenty years

(How time does fly!) and all our prayers and tears Poured out upon the heedless sands of time —

(Oh! Heart be still, you know war is sublime,)

Or so they told us, when our sons were gone,

Singing down lonely roads to greet the dawn.

They didn't want to die, these lads of ours,

(Spring in their veins, and love, and budding flowers.) Qbrjiall them back across the empty sky And let them tell us how it is to die,

And how it fares with them we cherished so —

Old mothers here would be glad to know.

And how we'd tell them all the household news (Scolding them tenderly for muddy shoes),

Malee apple pies for them (how boys love pies!)

"Smooth out that wrinkle there between his eyes," Get out the company plates and Christmas cake,

Giving our little best, for his dear sake.

It could not be, the years, the years have fled,

Flowers and grass have grown above our dead,

Ours is the faith and ours the trust to keep,

The field that they have sown is ours to reap,

Harvests untold for children yet to be,

(O God! may we be true to them — and Thee).