Sunday, November 11, 2012

Lest We Forget



Has there been a generation in recent memory to grow up without war, (or police action) its build up, or aftermath? Perhaps one day we can answer that question with a resounding Yes!

But until that time, let us remember all those who answered the call of service . . .                        


For the Fallen
- Laurence Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, 
England mourns for her dead across the sea. 
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, 
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal 
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres. 
There is a music in the midst of desolation 
And a glory that shines upon our tears. 

They went with songs to the battle, they were young, 
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. 
They were staunch to the end against odds uncountered: 
They fell with their faces to the foe. 

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. 
At the going down of the sun and in the morning 
We will remember them. 

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; 
They sit no more at familiar tables at home; 
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; 
They sleep beyond England's foam. 

But where our desires are and our hopes profound, 
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, 
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known 
As the stars are known to the Night; 

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, 
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; 
As the stars are starry in the time of our darkness, 
To the end, to the end they remain. 

First published in 1914.

2 comments:

  1. This is the kind of poem that fills me with fear, as a mother.

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    Replies
    1. Me too. With the human cost of the wars that we are fighting all but hidden from the public, it makes them abstract ideas - too easy to keep going.

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