Page:The further side of silence (IA furthersideofsil00clifiala).pdf/429

 You be far—too far—my Brothers, gnarled brown faces that I know, Men who dealt with me aforetime, friend with friend and heart with heart— Our paths lie worlds asunder, since the Fates would have it so, For behold "the Order reached me," and to-day, old Friends, we part. Yet you will not quite forget me, O my Brothers over sea— Let me keep that fond illusion: it will help me on my way— And I pray you tell the little ones, who gather round your knee, Of those days we saw together in the land of the Malay.

And my thanks are yours, my Brothers, for a thousand acts of grace, For the trust wherewith you trusted, for the love wherewith you loved. For your honest, open greetings, lifted hand and friendly face, For the kindness that you dealt me when through all your land I roved. It was mine to toil and struggle, it was mine to war with wrong, It was mine to labour for you, aye, to sorrow, hope, and yearn; But I'll shout it from the house-tops from Barbados to Hong-Kong — If to you I rendered service, I from you had most to learn.