Age shall not weary them…..

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 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.

Good night and see you tomorrow,

Froogs xxxxx

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11 thoughts on “Age shall not weary them…..

  1. Beautiful. I think of the young men I knew who went to Viet Nam when I was young. Some didn't return and some who did are not the same. I pray for the young men my country has lost and I also pray for the young men who have fought for your freedom and who paid the ultimate price. Freedom is built on the lives that were given for us.

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  2. This summer I visited France for the first time. I have always wanted to visit the grave of my paternal Grandfather at Caudry. He died on 17th October 1918 in one of the last major battles of the war. My Dad was only three at the time and my Nan was expecting their 2nd son.
    We went first to Ypres to visit the Menin Gate then down to Caudry and on to just north of Paris. In one day my eyes were opened to the true horror of that time. To see the names of all those young men and women, real people just like you and I, was heartbreaking. As we drove down to Caudry we saw so many graves. Some in quite large cemetaries and some in smaller plots in the corners of fields. I was reminded of the poem by Rupert Brooke.

    The Soldier

    IF I should die, think only this of me;
    That there's some corner of a foreign field
    That is for ever England. There shall be
    In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
    A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
    A body of England's breathing English air,
    Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

    And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
    A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
    Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
    Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
    And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
    In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

    Thank you for this post Froogs, I hope we will always remember them.

    Best wishes, EileenM

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  3. The Rememberance service is always one of the most emotional points in my year. I try to put myself in the shoes of someone in the trenches. Impossible I know, but the stories are so awful that it is important that we remember them.

    We will remember them.

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  4. In Flanders fields the poppies blow
    between the crosses, row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky the larks, still bravely, singing fly scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders field.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    to you from failing hands we throw
    The torch, be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep though poppies grow in Flanders fields.

    Lest we forget.

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  5. It is a little less poignant for the Aussies and Kiwis because we were “the motherlands gun fodder” but we remember 11.11.11… It started our national pride in ourselves…

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  6. We Aussies remember her dead… We were “gun fodder” according to our “motherland”… and used accordingly… Our Sons are being harvested on the fields of France… The Aussie/Kiwi tally astounds the historians of our day…

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  7. After World War II, the U.S. renamed Armistice Day Veterans Day in honor of all who served in all wars. I was fortunate to be at Arlington National Cemetery at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier about 15 years ago. Very moving. So, too, was the poems that have appeared in this blog. The only one I was familiar with was “In Flanders fields the poppies blow….” I am flying my American flag today in honor of those who served in all wars.

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