For The Fallen
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 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