What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Anthem for Doomed Youth – Wilfred Owen, 1917

3 comments for “Remembrance

  1. Greg Tingey
    November 11, 2012 at 8:54 am

    And, for those two uncles of mine who came back from the Somme & Cambrai, the second of whom survived the dreaed Burma Railway as well …

    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.”

    It is getting very late, I think.

  2. November 12, 2012 at 8:23 am

    Thanks, AE. If people didn’t comment on this, it wasn’t lack of interest but that we were pretty busy in other places. Your message is noted and heeded.

  3. Fred
    November 13, 2012 at 7:38 pm

    My father died fighting for the pieces of shit that currently enjoy gloating in Westminster.

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