Not in the stone you smashed dwelt memory,
And not in stone are the Canadian dead
Immortal, but in hearts where they were bred
And in the country that they fought to free.
There they live on until no man shall be
Alive that knew them. Legend next shall shed
Its glory over them, but nought be said
Of your crass bomb and stupid victory.
Or, if you and your bomb are ever known
Hereafter, it will be as lifeless things
Fighting the dead and blindly breaking stone,
Going your ways with noisy blunderings,
Like rocky streams of Chaos bumping on
Aimlessly down into oblivion.