Remembrance Sunday

First year at a different Remembrance Sunday service, this time just up the road in Inveresk.

I think it is so so important to remember the many brave men, women and animals who made the ultimate sacrifice, so we can enjoy life as we know it today.

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.

Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen (died 4 November 1918, Flanders).