Remembrance Sunday

Today we not only mark the tragic loss of life in World War One, but of all young men, women and children who have been affected by conflict at some point in the world. Below is a short poem by famed war poet Wilfred Owen, who was sadly killed a week before the Armistice 99 years ago, he was only 25. 

Anthem for Doomed Youth (1917):

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

We salute them all...Lest we forget the incredible contribution they made to the freedoms we enjoy today.