Originally published in The Wingham Chronicle and Manning River Observer, Tuesday 10 March 1942.
Soldier.
Build me no monument should my turn come,
Please do not weep for me, and waste your tears
Write not my name on honor rolls of fame.
To crumble with man's memory through the years.
Wear no dark clothes, speak in no saddened voice,
Seeking rare virtues which did not exist;
Just let me lie, under the cool, sweet earth,
And sleep in peace, where I will not be missed.
I ask one thing; that, in still far-off days,
Someone who knew me, should in their daily round
Suddenly pause, caught by some sight or sound,
Some glance, some phrase, some trick of memory's ways
Which brings me to their mind; then I shall wait
Eager with hope; to hear them say: "How great
If he were here." Then, softly, at the end,
All that I ask for; just: "He was my friend."
— David McNicoll (Syria)
Source: Soldier (1942, March 10). The Wingham Chronicle and Manning River Observer (NSW : 1898 - 1954), p. 1.
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