Sunday, 11 November 2012
So many people know that famous verse, but do you know the rest of the poem. Here it is in case you didn't:
For The Fallen
by Robert Louis 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 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 condemn.
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.
When you learn about the First World War in history, it is so easy to think of the people that died as a number, a fact, a figure on a page. But stop for a minute and really think about them for who they were. Sons. Brothers. Fathers. Husbands. Uncles. Friends. The amount of lives lost is nothing like we can ever imagine right now, or have had to experience. So never forget them and what they did so we could live now, in (relative) peace and freedom.