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 day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam
A different poppy shot and thank you too for the poem. Like most folk, I suspect, I only knew the middle verse so it's good to read it all - very evocative.
I googled this and found there is a plaque dedicated to the poet, Robert Laurence Binyon, situated on the cliff on the north Cornish coast where we are visiting my auntie on Friday so I might try to get the opportunity to find it. http://www.greatwar.co.uk/poems/laurence-binyon-for-the-fallen.htm
Thanks everyone, I thought this was the complete Poem but Hazel has linked to a longer version above. Thank you for sharing Hazel, that is very interesting.
Thank for the poem, Bulldog as I'm looking forward to trying to find the plaque to the poet on the cliff near my auntie's home. (And getting a shot of course!!)
@quietpurplehaze @ness50 @pamknowler @triciaodonnell @tremerryn
Thank for the poem, Bulldog as I'm looking forward to trying to find the plaque to the poet on the cliff near my auntie's home. (And getting a shot of course!!)
Hoping to have a photo of the plaque on the north Cornish coast to the poet Laurence Binyon during our visit t Auntie Betty this weekend.