For the Fallen
Laurence Binyon
1869 to 1943
Track 1
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We will remember them.
They fell with their faces to the foe.
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
There is music in the midst of desolation
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
To the end, to the end, they remain.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
As the stars are known to the Night;
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
They sleep beyond England's foam.
Fallen in the cause of the free.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,