Well known poems for today and in particular honour and memory of my grandad who fought in WW I and never, ever spoke about it afterwards.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
('In Flanders Fields' by John McCrae )
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.
(From 'For the Fallen' by Robert Lawrence Binyon)
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.
(From 'For the Fallen' by Robert Lawrence Binyon)
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
('The Soldier' by Rupert Brooke)
Poignant and beautiful, Joy x
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sooze. xxx
ReplyDeleteWe will remember them.
ReplyDeleteMargaret P
We will.
ReplyDeletexx
The Rupert Brooke is always my favourite - I love the thought of a little patch of England being were those who died lay.
ReplyDeleteMy granddad's elder brother William was killed only 10 days into the conflict at the Battle of the Somme. I remember my grandparents always put a poppy on his picture frame which hung centrally over the fireplace.
Lovely post. I posted about my parents on my FB page today-Dad aged 19 conscipted into the Royal Navy and Mum age 17 drafted into Anderson Boyes for war work. Thay married in 1945 before VJ day aged 21 and 23. They had 35 years of marriage eneded by my father’s death of a heart weakened by what he endured. He never spoke about his time in the Navy apart from the dreadful seasickness. He went back to the steelworks but joined the Police in 1951 when I was 1 year old and was invalided out just before he died. Mum was a widow for 20 years before she died and theirs was a marriage of childhood sweethearts. Never forgotten.
ReplyDeleteThey remembered him. That is lovely.
ReplyDeletexx
That's a beautiful love story, Catriona, thank you.
ReplyDeletexxx
Lovely poems Joy and it does us good to read and reread them and remember
ReplyDelete