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Western Mail, Thursday 29 March 1933, page 2
A Picture Painted Red.
By C.H., Maylands
(There is more talk of war in Europe than at any time since 1914: Fact.)
To think that fools should talk of war
While this sad world seeks to restore
A little of the vast upset.
That hovers largely round us yet.
Perhaps a picture painted red
Of the last conflict’s maimed and dead
Will cause such fools to think again
Before they'd urge us to such pain.
Thus shall I ask my feeble pen
To portray now what happened then.
Two figures floundered through the mud;
It's sticky ooze was stained with blood.
A youthful German, big and strong,
An Anzac, sinewy and long;
Each typifying youth and power.
A Nation's strength, a Nation's flower;
Each fighting for he knew not what,
And growling little at his lot:
But there to do his Nation's will,
To gas and poison; maim or kill.
To slay - at any cost to slay -
The enemy who barred his way:
Thus in such mind the darkness brought
These two together, and they fought
With every aid that came to .hand.
With all the strength they could command.
At last they rolled with broken heads
And uniforms all torn to shreds,
Into the mud. And side by side.
Before the morning came, they died.
Two mothers down on bended knew:
One far across the mine-strewn seas:
Another in a nearer land:
Each praying that God's guiding hand
Would guard the lad she loved so well
And bring him from that living hell
Back to the peace they knew before
The coming of this awful war.
They prayed, poor women, all in vain.
Yet fools would break their hearts again.