bsh1 Memorial Profile Pick of the Week No. 2: REMEMBER, REMEMBER

Author: oromagi ,

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  • oromagi
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    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.

    "For the Fallen"

    -Laurence Binyon

  • oromagi
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  • oromagi
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    Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
    Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
    Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
    And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
    Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
    But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
    Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
    Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

    Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
    Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
    But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
    And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
    Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
    As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

    In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
    He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

    If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
    Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
    And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
    His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
    If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
    Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
    Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
    Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
    My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
    To children ardent for some desperate glory,
    The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
    Pro patria mori.

    -Wilfred Owen

  • oromagi
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  • oromagi
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    THE HOLLOW MEN

    "Mistah Kurtz-he dead"

                "A penny for the Old Guy"


                           I

        We are the hollow men
        We are the stuffed men
        Leaning together
        Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
        Our dried voices, when
        We whisper together
        Are quiet and meaningless
        As wind in dry grass
        Or rats' feet over broken glass
        In our dry cellar
       
        Shape without form, shade without colour,
        Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
       
        Those who have crossed
        With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
        Remember us-if at all-not as lost
        Violent souls, but only
        As the hollow men
        The stuffed men.

       
                                  II

        Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
        In death's dream kingdom
        These do not appear:
        There, the eyes are
        Sunlight on a broken column
        There, is a tree swinging
        And voices are
        In the wind's singing
        More distant and more solemn
        Than a fading star.
       
        Let me be no nearer
        In death's dream kingdom
        Let me also wear
        Such deliberate disguises
        Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
        In a field
        Behaving as the wind behaves
        No nearer-
       
        Not that final meeting
        In the twilight kingdom

       
                       III

        This is the dead land
        This is cactus land
        Here the stone images
        Are raised, here they receive
        The supplication of a dead man's hand
        Under the twinkle of a fading star.
       
        Is it like this
        In death's other kingdom
        Waking alone
        At the hour when we are
        Trembling with tenderness
        Lips that would kiss
        Form prayers to broken stone.

       
                         IV

        The eyes are not here
        There are no eyes here
        In this valley of dying stars
        In this hollow valley
        This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
       
        In this last of meeting places
        We grope together
        And avoid speech
        Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
       
        Sightless, unless
        The eyes reappear
        As the perpetual star
        Multifoliate rose
        Of death's twilight kingdom
        The hope only
        Of empty men.

       
                               V

        Here we go round the prickly pear
        Prickly pear prickly pear
        Here we go round the prickly pear
        At five o'clock in the morning.
       
        Between the idea
        And the reality
        Between the motion
        And the act
        Falls the Shadow
                                       For Thine is the Kingdom
       
        Between the conception
        And the creation
        Between the emotion
        And the response
        Falls the Shadow
                                       Life is very long
       
        Between the desire
        And the spasm
        Between the potency
        And the existence
        Between the essence
        And the descent
        Falls the Shadow
                                       For Thine is the Kingdom
       
        For Thine is
        Life is
        For Thine is the
       
        This is the way the world ends
        This is the way the world ends
        This is the way the world ends
        Not with a bang but a whimper.
    <br>

  • oromagi
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  • oromagi
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        Remember, remember!
        The fifth of November,
        The Gunpowder treason and plot;
        I know of no reason
        Why the Gunpowder treason
        Should ever be forgot!
        Guy Fawkes and his companions
        Did the scheme contrive,
        To blow the King and Parliament
        All up alive.
        Threescore barrels, laid below,
        To prove old England's overthrow.
        But, by God's providence, him they catch,
        With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
        A stick and a stake
        For King James's sake!
        If you won't give me one,
        I'll take two,
        The better for me,
        And the worse for you.
        A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
        A penn'orth of cheese to choke him,
        A pint of beer to wash it down,
        And a jolly good fire to burn him.
        Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
        Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
        Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray! 

  • oromagi
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  • oromagi
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    Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
    Shovel them under and let me work—
                                              I am the grass; I cover all.

    And pile them high at Gettysburg
    And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
    Shovel them under and let me work.
    Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
                                              What place is this?
                                              Where are we now?

                                              I am the grass.
                                              Let me work.


    -Carl Sandburg

  • RationalMadman
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    --> @oromagi
    poppy put in for you.
  • oromagi
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    --> @RationalMadman
    awww