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The Ode Full poem

  • bloodog
    bloodog
    4 years ago
    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 glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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 daytime,
    They sleep beyond England’s foam.

    But where our desires and 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 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.

    Lest we forget 
  • brucefxdl
    brucefxdl
    4 years ago
    Quoting bloodog on 24 Apr 2020 02:48 AM

    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 glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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 daytime,
    They sleep beyond England’s foam.

    But where our desires and 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 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.

    Lest we forget 

    thanks BD,did you pen that ? it is that time of year when we think of those who left ,never to return.and of those who continued at home with their loss.i had 5 uncles serve through the 2nd war and all returned home,they never talked openly of their time served.Lest we forget. 
  • bloodog
    bloodog
    4 years ago
    Quoting bloodog on 24 Apr 2020 02:48 AM

    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 glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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 daytime,
    They sleep beyond England’s foam.

    But where our desires and 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 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.

    Lest we forget 

    Quoting brucefxdl on 24 Apr 2020 03:22 AM

    thanks BD,did you pen that ? it is that time of year when we think of those who left ,never to return.and of those who continued at home with their loss.i had 5 uncles serve through the 2nd war and all returned home,they never talked openly of their time served.Lest we forget. 

    This is The Ode full poem by:  Laurence Binyon
    Many left our shores many came back deferent people 

    Driveway service 6am 

    lest we forget. 

  • brucefxdl
    brucefxdl
    4 years ago
    Quoting bloodog on 24 Apr 2020 02:48 AM

    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 glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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 daytime,
    They sleep beyond England’s foam.

    But where our desires and 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 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.

    Lest we forget 

    Quoting brucefxdl on 24 Apr 2020 03:22 AM

    thanks BD,did you pen that ? it is that time of year when we think of those who left ,never to return.and of those who continued at home with their loss.i had 5 uncles serve through the 2nd war and all returned home,they never talked openly of their time served.Lest we forget. 

    Quoting bloodog on 24 Apr 2020 03:32 AM

    This is The Ode full poem by:  Laurence Binyon

    Many left our shores many came back deferent people 

    Driveway service 6am 

    lest we forget. 

    yes,6.00 am in the driveway.1 of my uncles spent time in a japanese pow camp,that certainly knocked him around,he contracted malaria while in there.
    a mate of his stole medicine to keep him alive,that act alone would have seen him beheaded if caught.but he too survived and i remember seeing them reunited about 53 years ago after the the mate came to our house looking for my uncle and dad took around there,i can still see that clearly today.
    it was very moving ,even for a 10 year old.

    lest we forget.
  • Ratbob
    Ratbob
    4 years ago
    Thanks bloodog
    I’ll be out there.
    This virus is nothing. 
    Lest we forget true sacrifice.
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