Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408638" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Here Died</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's many a schoolboy's bat and ball that are gathering dust at home, <br>For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come; <br>A serious light in his eyes is seen as he comes from the schoolhouse gate; <br>He keeps his kit and his rifle clean, and he sees that his back is straight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But straight or crooked, or round, or lame – you may let these words take root; <br>As the time draws near for the sterner game, all boys should learn to shoot, <br>From the beardless youth to the grim grey-beard, let Australians ne'er forget, <br>A lame limb never interfered with a brave man's shooting yet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over and over and over again, to you and our friends and me, <br>The warning of danger has sounded plain – like the thud of a gun at sea. <br>The rich man turns to his wine once more, and the gay to their worldly joys, <br>The &quot;statesman&quot; laughs at a hint of war – but something has told the boys. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The schoolboy scouts of the White Man's Land are out on the hills to-day; <br>They trace the tracks from the sea-beach sand and sea-cliffs grim and grey; <br>They take the range for a likely shot by every cape and head, <br>And they spy the lay of each lonely spot where an enemy's foot might tread. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the cooling breeze of the coastal streams, or out where the townships bake, <br>They march in fancy, and fight in dreams, and die for Australia's sake. <br>They hold the fort till relief arrives, when the landing parties storm, <br>And they take the pride of their fresh young lives in the set of a uniform. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where never a loaded shell was hurled, nor a rifle fired to kill, <br>The schoolboy scouts of the Southern World are choosing their Battery Hill. <br>They run the tapes on the flats and fells by roads that the guns might sweep, <br>They are fixing in memory obstacles where the firing lines shall creep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They read and they study the gunnery - they ask till the meaning's plain, <br>But the craft of the scout is a simple thing to the young Australian brain. <br>They blaze the track for a forward run, where the scrub is everywhere, <br>And they mark positions for every gun and every unit there. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They trace the track for a quick retreat – and the track for the other way round, <br>And they mark the spot in the summer heat where the water is always found. <br>They note the chances of cliff and tide, and where they can move, and when, <br>And every point where a man might hide in the days when they'll fight as men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When silent men with their rifles lie by many a ferny dell; <br>And turn their heads when a scout goes by, with a cheery growl &quot;All's well&quot;; <br>And scouts shall climb by the fisherman's ways, and watch for a sign of ships, <br>With stern eyes fixed on the threatening haze where the blue horizon dips. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When men shall camp in the dark and damp by the bough-marked battery, <br>Between the forts and the open ports where the miners watch the sea; <br>And talk perhaps of their boy-scout days, as they sit in their shelters rude, <br>While motors race to the distant bays with ammunition and food. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the city alight shall wait by night for news from a far-out post, <br>And men ride down from the farming town to patrol the lonely coast – <br>Till they hear the thud of a distant gun, or the distant rifles crack, <br>And Australians spring to their arms as one to drive the invaders back. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There'll be no music or martial noise, save the guns to help you through, <br>For a plain and shirt-sleeve job, my boys, is the job that we'll have to do. <br>And many of those who had learned to shoot – and in learning learned to teach – <br>To the last three men, and the last galoot, shall die on some lonely beach. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But they'll waste their breath in no empty boast, and they'll prove to the world their worth, <br>When the shearers rush to the Eastern Coast, and the miners rush to Perth. <br>And the man who fights in a Queenscliff fort, or up by Keppel Bay, <br>Will know that his mates at Bunbury are doing their share that day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was never a land so great and wide, where the foreign fathers came, <br>That has bred her children so much alike, with their hearts so much the same. <br>And sons shall fight by the mangrove creeks that lie on the lone East Coast, <br>Who never shall know (or not for weeks) if the rest of Australia's lost. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And far in the future (I see it well, and born of such days as these), <br>There lies an Australia invincible, and mistress of all her seas; <br>With monuments standing on hill and head, where her sons shall point with pride <br>To the names of Australia's bravest dead, carved under the words &quot;Here died.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408638" data-title="Here Died de Henry Lawson" data-description="There's many a schoolboy's bat and ball that are gathering dust at home, 
For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come; 
A serious light in his eyes is seen as he comes from the schoolhouse gate; 
He keeps his kit and..."></div>
</div>
</div>