Poem by Harry Searle

Above is a poem by my Great Uncle Harry, killed in action at age 23 during World War II, in the battle of El Alamein (1942). I’ve only just learned of this poem, as well as lots of other interesting information about Harry, online at the RSL Virtual War Memorial. While thinking about him on Anzac Day yesterday,  I thought to do a google search for his name, which led me to the above record at the RSL website. Thanks to the kindness, time and effort of a woman I’ve never met, Kaye Lee, I now know much more about my great uncle than I ever did. I’ve also seen photos of him that I’ve never seen before. Kaye is the daughter of a close friend of Harry’s, a man who also served with him in Tobruk and in Egypt and went on to survive the war. I was really touched that she took the trouble to create such a comprehensive record for my Great Uncle Harry. I’ve written out a transcript of the poem below. Written for his wife, it is certainly a very poignant and tender poem, speaking of love, loss and longing during wartime.

The train is winding slowly
Through a strange and foreign land
And as far as the eye can travel
Stretches the shifting sand.

Along the dying daylight
Into the darkening light,
The turning wheels are taking me
Farther from your sight.

But though I travel farther,
Even to the end of my day,
My love shall be as your love
For ever and for aye.


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