We Will Remember Them.
Saturday, 11 November 2006 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosiedoesFor The Fallen 
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 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 uncounted;
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 of 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 that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
-- Laurence Binyon
Outside my window I can hear windchimes. On my television, The Somme describes the events of the Great War; my laptop wallpaper is from Band of Brothers. In my natural lifetime, I expect to see the centenaries of the start and end of both the First & Second World Wars.
And we're still at war.
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 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 uncounted;
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 of 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 that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
-- Laurence Binyon
Outside my window I can hear windchimes. On my television, The Somme describes the events of the Great War; my laptop wallpaper is from Band of Brothers. In my natural lifetime, I expect to see the centenaries of the start and end of both the First & Second World Wars.
And we're still at war.
no subject
on 2006-11-11 10:49 pm (UTC)An Irish Airman Forsees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above.
Those I fight, I do not hate;
Those I guard I do not love.
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor.
No likely end could bring them loss,
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds -
A lowly impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds.
I balanced all, brought all to mind.
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath, the years behind,
In balance with this life, this death.