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G4EBT > POEM 27.10.08 20:20l 146 Lines 5650 Bytes #999 (0) @ WW
BID : 899316G4EBT
Read: GUEST
Subj: "At the going down of the Sun"
Path: DB0FHN<DB0MRW<DK0WUE<GB7FCR
Sent: 081027/1819Z @:GB7FCR.#16.GBR.EU #:15650 [Blackpool] FBB-7.03a $:899316G4
From: G4EBT@GB7FCR.#16.GBR.EU
To : POEM@WW
One of the nice things about the Last Post ceremony is that though
it's solemn occasion, it isn't - as some may imagine, a religious
ceremony, but a simple act of remembrance which people of all faiths
and none can join in, with equal conviction.
The words aren't a prayer, even though some mutter 'amen' at the end.
They're taken from a poem - " For The Fallen" - best known by many who
attend ceremonies of remembrance around the world. As often as not they
reproduced the words with a common error - substituting "condemn"
for the original word "contemn".
Perhaps because so few people know the word 'contemn' which has become a
tad archaic, it has over time, in the minds of many been replaced with the
much more well known 'condemn' but that changes the meaning of the line
significantly.
"Contemn" is the formal transitive verb meaning to treat or regard with
contempt; to scorn. [Origins - C15: from Latin contemnere, from temnere
to slight].
Condemn, on the other hand, means to express strong disapproval of; to
censure; to pronounce judicial sentence on; to judge or pronounce unfit
for use - as with food that has been condemned, and so on.
A quite different meaning from contemn.
But not wishing to nitpick, here are the words as they're generally
spoken:
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".
Another common error (which doubtless grates on the nerves of split
infinitive pedants) is to say "they shall not grow old", rather than
"they shall grow not old".
I often wonder if many who recite or listen to these words know where they
originated. They're just a small part of a poem by Laurence Binyon that he
called "The Fallen" first published in the Times newspaper on 21 Sept
1914.
It's rather a pity that more of the poem isn't used, as it contains many
more evocative lines. Although "We Will Remember Them" is a fitting note
to end on, the next few lines put into perspective the sacrifices made not
just by those who fell, but also those who were bereaved by their loss.
What follows on from "We will Remember Them" is:
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.
As the poem is used the world over in last post ceremonies, the
words 'England's foam' wouldn't be apt in many circumstances.
The poem was written by Lawrence Binyon very early in the war in reaction
to the high casualty rates of the British Expeditionary Force at Mons and
Le Cateau, but the four famous lines have now taken on an existence of
their own, that applies to all war casualties.
Laurence Robert Binyon - poet and scholar, was born in Lancaster on 10th
Aug 1869. He was educated at Trinity College, Oxford and won the Newdigate
Prize for his poem "Persephone" whilst there. After university he worked
as a curator in the Oriental Department of the British Museum.
He was too old to join the British Expeditionary Forces so went to the
Western Front as a Red Cross medical orderly, survived the war and
returned to the British Museum after the war.
After retirement in 1933 he was appointed Norton Professor of Poetry at
Harvard University, followed by the appointment as Byron Professor of
English Literature at Athens University.
In his lifetime he wrote many works on Far Eastern Art, several plays, a
translation of Divine Comedy by Dante and the first part of an Arthurian
trilogy called The Madness of Merlin, published in 1947 after he had died.
He died on 10th March 1943 and is buried at Saint Mary's Church, Aldworth,
Berkshire.
The full text of his poem "For The Fallen" is as follows:
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of 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 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.
Laurence Robert Binyon, 1869-1943.
Quote of the day:
"They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die for one's
country. But in modern war, there is nothing sweet nor fitting in your
dying. You will die like a dog for no good reason".
Ernest Hemmingway.
1899 - 1961.
(WWI veteran, Pulitzer Prize winner 1953,
Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954).
Best wishes
David, G4EBT @ GB7FCR
Cottingham, East Yorkshire.
Message timed: 18:13 on 2008-Oct-27
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