A poem from the front
The following poem was recently discovered in family papers of the late Mac Grant, of Grant's Corners, South Glengarry. It was written by Mr. Grant's uncle A.J. MacArthur, presumably in memory of a family member following the Battle of Paschendaele.
In Memory of Donald A. MacArthur
When the Flander's rain was falling And the soldiers khaki clad; Fought their way through shells apalling, One Canadian youth was glad; As he heard his Chieftains' warning, Look ye man o'er yonder yale; We'll attack in early morning, And advance on Paschendaele. He had lived the good life daily, Lived at peace with God and man; Ever meeting foeman gaily; As became his noble Clan. Noble youth of tender nursing, Reared by parents fond and true,
Left your school books, donned the khaki; Clan's tradition lived in you. You have given all so freely; All that life can hold in store, Proud to die for God and Country,
What could mortal man do more?
When our troops return victorious: Cheer ye not in childish glee, Praise our loved ones who have fallen
That our country may be free.
When our legions reach the homeland, Every officer, every man. May relate the touching story, Of some member of his clan; Who has nobly shed his lifeblood,
In that charge on Paschendaele;
Heeding not bomb, shell, nor bayonet Bold Canadian did not fail. On the day of final Judgement, When the Clans again unite May God grant that we meet them,
In their golden armor bright.