We will remember them

Today as the clocks struck the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, of the eleventh year of this century, Britain fell silent to remember and honour the sacrifices of those who gave their lives in two world wars and numerous smaller wars since. Some of us cried.

A hundred years ago today Britain was a military and political colossus with the biggest Empire the world had ever seen. Back then my great grandparents had no idea what the world would bring. The had an innocence and confidence that some today might find difficult to comprehend. Two world wars later, after having on more than one occasion had to stand alone in the name of freedom, Britain was once more reduced to being a small island nation barely limping along the keep afloat. Nonetheless toady we remembered those who gave our lives for all our freedom.

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 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 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.
Laurence Robert Binyon, 1869-1943