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November 30, 2005

R.I.P. Harry Boyle

This poem and story were found in the obituary from The Maitland Mercury. At the end of his life, Harry was a writer and historian but his long career included a stint as a paper boy, working as a both a jackeroo and a farmer, and he spent his war years as a secret intelligence officer behind enemy lines (Z Force).

Harry Boyle historian and friend to Maitland
Tuesday, 29 November 2005
The poem on this page to me epitomizes the man who has given so freely and generously of his time and interest to further the knowledge and history of our country in time of war, disaster, the Hunter area and, of course, the personalities such as Les Darcy, and in particular his regard for one of our early pioneers, Molly Morgan.
The highlight of the week for many of us has also been the articles in the Maitland Mercury written by him, which will come out in book form in 2006.
Build me no monument should my turn come,
Please do not weep for me and waste your tears,
Write not my name on honour rolls of fame
To crumble with man's memory through the years.
Wear no dark clothes, speak in no saddened voice
Seeking rare virtues which did not exist,
Just let me lie under the cool sweet earth
And sleep in peace, where I will not be missed.
I ask one thing. That in still far off days
Someone who knew me should in their daily round
Suddenly pause, caught by some sight or sound,
Some glance, some phrase, some trick of memory's ways
Which brings me to his mind. Then I shall wait
Eager with hope; perhaps to hear "how great
If he were with us still". Then, at the end,
All that I wish for - Just; "he was my friend"
This poem written by David McNicholl in Syria in 1941 was a poem Harry told me that he has had in his research records since 1945.

Additional information can be found in Hats off to Harry and in Family and friends remember life lived to the full.

Posted by Ozguru at November 30, 2005 06:00 PM