If you watched the service in Westminster Abbey commemorating the 80th anniversary of VE Day, you will recall that the immortal words of Laurence Binyon, from his poem “For the Fallen”, were sung by the Abbey choir at the beginning of the service. “For the Fallen” is one of the best known poems of the First World War and was first published in The Times on 21st September 1914. It was written in response to the severe casualties suffered by the British Expeditionary Force in the opening month of the war.
What many people may not realise is that Laurence Binyon was the brother of Charles Binyon (a prominent figure in Badsey village life) and visited the village on a number of occasions.
Laurence Binyon composed the poem while sitting on the cliff-top looking out to sea from the dramatic scenery of the north Cornish coastline. According to the late Michael Barnard, he was told by his father, Jack, that, shortly after this, Laurence visited his brother in Badsey. Young Jack, aged 15 at the time, became engaged in a conversation with the poet when they passed each other in the churchyard. Laurence showed the teenager the draft of the poem with its crossings out, revealing how he had agonised for a long time whether to put “We shall remember them” or “We will remember them” in the fourth stanza.
It is this fourth stanza that is read or sung at commemorative services, but the text of the whole poem is given below.
Maureen Spinks, May 2025
FOR THE FALLEN (September 1914)
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 condemn.
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.
LAURENCE BINYON
1869-1943