Footsteps

Footsteps

I heard the tread of many feet -
Voices laughed and songs were sung;
An army, it seemed, marched along the street,
Who laughed and returned the jests that were flung.

I heard the tread of tired feet,
Wax-worn and weary, home and sore.
Were these the victors I’d hurried to meet?
A few battered veterans returned from a war!

I heard the tread of feet once more.
Footsteps left in the sands of time;
Imprints on life’s rocky shore,
Of storms and battles unknown to rhyme.

The tread of feet has died away,
Past are the sorrows, the hopes and fears
Their songs are sung by nations today
In a voice of praise half-choked by tears.

May 18th 1929

This poem is one of a few included at the end of Lorna's book Told round the fire. She was 15 when she composed it.