The Kia ora coo-ee : the magazine for the ANZACS in the Middle East, 1918
Oft the jaded, broken spirit
Lightens at a careless jest.
But the true reward of merit
Is a term of needed rest.
There will be a dearth of sadness
In the music-laden breeze,
When the guns have ceased their madness,
And the soldier takes his ease.
On the eve of war's conclusion,
When the stars demurely peep,
We shall see the calm seclusion
Of the curtained halls of sleep.
It shall be our future token,
After all the bargainings
Wrought in years of strife unbroken,
When we faced the thick of things.
Never is the end uncertain,
Stripped of joy or living worth,
While there's rest behind the curtain
That is drawn across the earth.