From the small Devonshire village of Topsham (population approximately 5,000), 69
men died in the First World War. (Here's a link to their names and details—the Trout family alone suffered the death
of two brothers and their cousin).
At nearly every British Remembrance ceremony, “The Last Post” is played by a bugler, then the
fourth verse of Laurence Binyon’s poem “For the Fallen” is read, and all in attendance echo, “We will remember them.”
Few today know that Binyon's poem was first published in the London Times on September 21, 1914, just weeks after Great Britain had entered the war—at a time when the number of fallen could scarcely be imagined.
Few today know that Binyon's poem was first published in the London Times on September 21, 1914, just weeks after Great Britain had entered the war—at a time when the number of fallen could scarcely be imagined.
For the Fallen
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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;
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.
--Laurence Binyon
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.
--Laurence Binyon
Is this Topsham?
ReplyDeleteThe first two photos are from Topsham; the last is of Tyne Cot in Belgium (the largest number of burials of any Commonwealth cemetery of either the first or second World War).
DeleteOf the 12,000 headstones, about 8,000 - a sobering three quarters - carry the simple inscription 'A soldier of the Great War. Known unto God'.
DeleteAnother one says: 'Loved, beyond death, by your wife and two babies'.
And yet another one: 'Sacrificed to the fallacy that war could end war'.
The names of another 35,000 wartime casualties with no known grave are to be found on the slabs in the apse of Tyne Cot. The names belong to the unidentified soldiers fallen after 15th August 1917, for whose names there was no more space on the slabs of The Menin Gate.
Best, from Flanders Fields
Chris S.
Sobering statistics, heart-breaking inscriptions. Thanks for sharing, Chris.
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