For the Fallen
For 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 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.
Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943),
published in The Times newspaper on 21st September 1914
Soldiers Fade Away
We sent them off to war,
these bright young men
We had no knowledge of what they saw,
They were bright young men no more .
Yes they were brave and they were whole
Those that survived had all lost their soul.
Many died, they were the lucky ones , death to them was kind.
Those who returned were faded in body and mind.
Their loved ones at first relieved
Soon found they had much cause to grieve.
Though there in body broken, they were not home in their mind
Whether whole in body or not they had left their minds behind.
They went out whole, these bright young things
They went full of pride for God and Kings
They ran head long into hell
Yet on return they could not relinquish it’s bad spell.
So we had a nation of half men ghosts
Whimpering fearful their heads…
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My wife, bless her tells me that I am rapidly becoming, or perhaps that should read have become a “Grumpy old fart”, so what better forum to spread my doom, gloom and paranoia than WordPress. I also have a love of old pictures, postcards and Edwardian Actresses, in particular Miss Gabrielle Ray which I hope to share at regular intervals. As my collection has grown I have set up another blog which contains only pictures of Miss Ray. Gabrielle Ray Thank you for viewing and comments are welcome.
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Grumpy old fart!!! 