Welcome to the Maitland RSL Sub-Branch site

                                        Serving the Community since 1919

                                    "The Price of Liberty is Eternal Vigilance"

                                                  Dedication

                              To the memory of all those who fell in battle

                                         To those who died of wounds

                                 To all who suffered and are still suffering 

                               To their families and to all who have served

                                             WW1 Cenotaph in Maitland Park

                                                                 The Ode

                                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. 

                           LEST WE FORGET

 

                    The following is Binyon's full poem from which "THE ODE" evolved.

                           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 in drums thrill: Death august and royal
                    Signs 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 at home;
                    They have no lot in our labour of the daytime;
                    They sleep beyond England's foam.

                    But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
                    Felt as a wellspring that is hidden from sight,
                    To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
                    As the stars that 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.

                    Binyon
                    (1869 - 1943)

This page was last updated on 29-Oct-2008.                            RETURN TO TOP