A visitor's Poem

This poem in not to be confused with the one depicted on the memorial.

The Memorial

It stands in the shade of a green woodland glade, tranquil, restful, a place of reflection;
While a stream running near, nature’s melody, clear, is a setting for quiet recollection.
And here, at its heart, the stonemason’s art commemorates boyhood ambition,
To enlist, train and learn, and then, having earned their place, follow their chosen vocation.

This circle of stone tells of ‘Boy’s Schools’, now flown into history’s yellowing pages,
Of young boys’ transitions to skilful technicians, through eras of momentous changes.
Yet a building alone, whether timber or stone, was just an inanimate part
Of a fine learning place; the real soul was embraced by the youngsters who gave it that heart.

The names inscribed here total many long years of staunch service, in conflict and peace,
And with pride represents the thousands who went and forsook lives of comfort and ease.
But their deeds and careers over many long years bear a testimony of great truth,
That when they were trained, the military gained the finest examples of youth.

And those old boys, now gone, will forever live on in this cloistered and quiet sanctuary,
Though some that remain will return yet again, and remember times when all was very
Exciting and new on life’s threshold, imbued with eager, supreme expectation,
Lifelong friendships were made, never fated to fade, rooted firm in that youthful foundation.

So, pause as you pass this place, sit, read each name that’s chased into the stonework laid here.
Each one could tell stories of ordeals and glories that stem from a soldier’s career,
But in the beginning, ere the losing and winning that all in a martial life know,
That solid direction was laid by instruction in how to live life and to grow
Into maturity, learn of truth, loyalty, and, above all, of honour, fair play.
Lessons which then turned those boys into men, and a debt we can never repay.

TeeCee
August 2011