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Time: 11:29:51 PM
Remote Name: 220.127.116.11
To the memory of
Lieut Peter Handcock and Lieut Henry H. Morant
27th February 1902
'He that loseth his life shall find it.'
I know he went from bad to worse, I know what ill he wrought, But I have seen him on a horse, And heard of how he fought; And, fool or wise, I own my eyes And troubled with a tear For the rough heart, the tough heart, That ceased its beating here.
Some heels may spurn The Breaker's grave, Some mouths thereon may spit, But some have owned to hands that gave A wreath to even it; And here's a meed of poor word-weed Would fain express the tear For that Other-heart, that Brother-heart That ceased its beating here.
Carve in stone above his head Words that some old Christian said: 'Grace he sought and grace he found 'Twixt the saddle and the ground!'