Yes I know, I'm awaiting Skyrim as eagerly as the next chap, but the last thing this forum needs is another Skyrim thread.
Anyway, moving on.
This Friday in the UK, at 11.00am, a two minutes silence will be observed for people to remember the dead and wounded, not just of the two World Wars, but also of those wars before and since.
Also, many people will be wearing poppies, as a symbol of this remembrance.
So my fellow Escapists, do they also do this where you are from, and if not, will you now be doing it?
I will be doing it, like I always have. I'll be at my office at work but even when I've been on the street before, I've damn well made sure I've done it.
Anyway, moving on.
This Friday in the UK, at 11.00am, a two minutes silence will be observed for people to remember the dead and wounded, not just of the two World Wars, but also of those wars before and since.
Also, many people will be wearing poppies, as a symbol of this remembrance.
So my fellow Escapists, do they also do this where you are from, and if not, will you now be doing it?
I will be doing it, like I always have. I'll be at my office at work but even when I've been on the street before, I've damn well made sure I've done it.
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.
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 contemn.
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.
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 contemn.
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.
