Friday, 11 November 2011

Lest we forget

Tomb of the Unknown Solider
Image Source: Lune Vintage
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.
Lest we forget.




Happy are these who lose imagination:
They have enough to carry with ammunition.
Their spirit drags no pack.
Their old wounds, save with cold, can not more ache.
Having seen all things red,
Their eyes are rid
Of the hurt of the colour of blood forever.
And terror’s first constriction over,
Their hearts remain small-drawn.
Their senses in some scorching cautery of battle
Now long since ironed,
Can laugh among the dying, unconcerned.

- "Insensibility", a poem by Wilfred Owen 
British First World War soldier 


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