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| Rememberance Sunday |
I'm going to make a huge effort to drag my lazy carcass out of bed on Sunday morning and go to the Remembrance Parade in Manchester.
I've worn my poppy with pride for as many years as I can remember and with the news of Afghanistan what it is this week - I think it is the least I can do.
I have absolutely no real concept of what these guys or their families go through.
If you go to look on you tube and search for James and hey ma...there is a video there - not done by the band - but it is nothing short of shocking, yet compulsive viewing.
We live such a small and sheltered lives.
The ceremony is always done beautifully and generations of families attend - all in their Sunday best. We stand in the winter cold or the damp rain and we give thanks to the brave men and women who fight for our freedom. The poem below is always featured as part of the service, particularly the verse I have highlighted.
For The Fallen - Robert Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
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.
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.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
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.
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