Thanks

Shall not the sun rise weary in the morning?
Till dusk on an unforgiving land.
Dawn another day each man mourning.
What is theirs? What is lost? What is gained?

Men braise the day, night; merry slaughter,
As men fall like flies to honour us.
What is right? The fight for our freedom?
In the nights that do dawn, only just?

When boys come home praise not their terror,
For their freedom comes at such a price.
Praise not the world, the world is broken.
Praise the men, their merry sacrifice.

In this land breeds forever Britain.
Of men in foreign fields fallen.
Many men whose stories go untold.
Shall grow not old as we remember them.