While The Billy BoilsSearchAnd his death came in December,When our summer was aglow—Like a song that we remember,Like a child’s dream long ago,And it brought Australia to him,Her sweetest singer dead,While in silence friends who knew himBowed their heads beside his bed.
Angel Death comes softly stealingWhen the watchers’ eyes are dim,And, when all has failed in healingWounded heart or helpless limb—With a whisper we may hear not’Till with “Adsum” we respond,And a vision we shall fear notOf the Peaceful Land beyond.
While Australians in their blindnessFail to realize their loss,Place the wreath of loving kindnessAnd raise the simple cross.For he taught us to be brothersAnd he taught us to be brave—And we’ll banish pride and envyWith a hand-clasp by his grave.