Posted a day early to start you thinking -
For the Fallen
A poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.
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.
A poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.
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.
The Scottish Socialist schoolteacher John MacLean said of WWI
"A bayonet that's a weapon with a working man at either end,
Betray your country, serve your class.
Don't sign up for war my friend."
Betray your country, serve your class.
Don't sign up for war my friend."
4
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4 comments
Feel free to reply to any comment by clicking the "Reply" button.Here is the same clip with visuals from an Australian perspective:
You should also be able to watch the original posting by pressing in the top right hand corner on the arrow which will enable you to copy the url and then watch through YouTube.
FrayedBear
Level 9
Nov 9, 2019
2
Strong emotions on both sides of the debate.
The War Poets are one of my favourite poetic genres especially Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owens.
Geoffrey51
Level 8
Nov 9, 2019
1
Try Robert Service who wrote from the perspective of an ambulance man.
@FrayedBear okay thanks
I like the poem, but sadly the video does not work.
Fernapple
Level 9
Nov 9, 2019
2
See above. The clip owner doesn't allow it outside of YouTube.
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