Wednesday, 11 November 2015

For the Fallen Poem


Laurence Binyon (1869- 1943) composed his best-known poem while sitting on a cliff top looking out to sea from the north Cornish coastline (first published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914). The poem was written a few weeks after the outbreak of the First World War. During these first weeks of the war the British Expeditionary Force had suffered casualties at Mons, Le Cateau and Marne. 

Laurence said in 1939 that the four lines of the fourth stanza came to him first. These words have become especially familiar and famous, having been adopted to commemorate fallen Servicemen and Women.

Laurence Binyon was too old to enlist in the military forces but he went to work for the Red Cross as a medical orderly in 1916. He lost several close friends and his brother-in-law in the great war.



 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.






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