Monday, November 10, 2008

November 11, 2008


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 contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

{...}

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 Binyon (1869-1943)
h/t Nelson King

1 comment:

Raven said...

Lovely poem. For some reason it made me think of the old Irish folk song The Minstral Boy which was a favorite of mine when I was young.