P. M. and A. C. D., killed in action, 1915.
Let pride with grief go hand in hand:They join the hallowed hosts who diedIn battle for their lovely land:With light about their brows they ride.Young hearts and hot, grey heads and wise,Good knights of all the years foregone,Faith in their England in their eyes,Still ride they on, still ride they on!By altars old their banners fadeBeneath dear spires; their names are setIn minster aisle, in yew-tree shade:Their memories fight for England yet.Let pride with grief go hand in hand,Sad Love with Patience side by side;In battle for their lovely landNot vainly England’s sons have died!And well may pride this hour befit;For not since England’s days beganMore fiery clear the word was writ:Who dies for England dies for Man!Helen Gray Cone.
Let pride with grief go hand in hand:They join the hallowed hosts who diedIn battle for their lovely land:With light about their brows they ride.Young hearts and hot, grey heads and wise,Good knights of all the years foregone,Faith in their England in their eyes,Still ride they on, still ride they on!By altars old their banners fadeBeneath dear spires; their names are setIn minster aisle, in yew-tree shade:Their memories fight for England yet.Let pride with grief go hand in hand,Sad Love with Patience side by side;In battle for their lovely landNot vainly England’s sons have died!And well may pride this hour befit;For not since England’s days beganMore fiery clear the word was writ:Who dies for England dies for Man!Helen Gray Cone.
Let pride with grief go hand in hand:They join the hallowed hosts who diedIn battle for their lovely land:With light about their brows they ride.
Young hearts and hot, grey heads and wise,Good knights of all the years foregone,Faith in their England in their eyes,Still ride they on, still ride they on!
By altars old their banners fadeBeneath dear spires; their names are setIn minster aisle, in yew-tree shade:Their memories fight for England yet.
Let pride with grief go hand in hand,Sad Love with Patience side by side;In battle for their lovely landNot vainly England’s sons have died!
And well may pride this hour befit;For not since England’s days beganMore fiery clear the word was writ:Who dies for England dies for Man!
Helen Gray Cone.
THE TEMPLE PRESSLETCHWORTHENGLAND
THE TEMPLE PRESSLETCHWORTHENGLAND
THE TEMPLE PRESSLETCHWORTHENGLAND