Originally posted on the anniversary of the publication of his poem, For the Fallen, 21st September 2014, Laurence Binyon’s poem has become synonymous with remembrance services across the country. This week is remembrance Weekend (and Veteran’s day in the United States) on which we remember the fallen: those who gave the greatest sacrifice, so we could live in peace.
I thought it appropriate to repost this during Thai special week so we know a little more about the poem and the history behind it.
‘Lest we forget’
“To all those who went before, (Robert) Laurence Binyon’s 1914 poem is widely used in remembrance services across the world. Laurence Binyon wrote his For the Fallen, with its Ode of Remembrance, while Binyon was visiting the cliffs of North Cornwall between Pentire Point and The Rumps.
Today, if you visit, there is a stone plaque at the spot to commemorate his poem, which reads: “For the Fallen Composed on these cliffs 1914″. There is also a second plaque located on the beehive monument on the East Cliff above Portreath in central North Cornwall. There, you will find a plaque on a statue inscribed with the same words. Laurence Binyon’s poem, For the Fallen, was published in The Times newspaper, following heightened public sentiment due to the recent Battle of Marne (5-12 September 1914) on 21st September 1914, 100 years ago today. http://wp.me/P4xjD9-8u
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.
(Published in The Times newspaper, 21st September 1914).
Thanks to Marcella who contributed to the writing of the original post.”