Afar in foreign graves they lie,
not here where they would wish to be,
“Under the wide and starry sky,”
upheld by British crag and scree.
And yet we felt their spirits dwell,
amidst the circumambient air,
above the heights they loved so well,
austere, enchanting, cloud-capped, bare.
For those who bravely die, ’twas said,
their tomb is the wide earth’s extent,
and Gable is for these, our dead,
their playground, and their monument.