Caring About Our Country
Although R.L. Binyon and J. McCrae are not Aussies, we have included their poems For the Fallen and In Flanders Fields because they have become part of our tradition. In most Ceremonies of Remembrance on ANZAC Day an appropriate poem is read. Both these poems are traditionally recited.
At RSL Clubs throughout Australia, the Remembrance Silence is a solemn ritual that takes place every night at 9 pm. All lights except a Memorial Flame are dimmed. Everyone present stands in silence and the Ode from For the Fallen is recited.
Note: RSL Clubs (Returned & Services League of Australia) are social clubs for returned service personnel. People mistakenly refer to all Service Clubs and Memorial Clubs as RSL Clubs. Only those clubs associated with the RSL should be called RSL Clubs.
For The Fallen
by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)
English Poet
Robert Laurence Binyon was born in Lancaster, England in 1869. During WWI he served with the Red Cross. He wrote the poem For the Fallen in September 1914. Four lines (highlighted below) of his famous poem are read every year at Armistice services across Australia, Britain, and other Commonwealth countries and is inscribed on thousands of memorials around the world. Those four lines are also known as the League Ode, or simply as the Ode. More information can be found at the Australian Army website.
 ith 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 at 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.
In Flanders Fields
by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Doctor and Poet
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae was a Canadian doctor attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade during WWI. The casualties and the suffering he witnessed around him had a profound affect on him. One death, however, hit him harder than the rest. A young friend and former student, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer was killed by a shell burst on 2 May 1915. He was buried that same day and McCrae performed the ceremony as there was no chaplain. The next day, while on a short break from surgery, he wrote the now famous poem In Flanders Fields. He put all his grief at his young friend's death into the poem.
Although he had written several medical books and a bit of poetry, it was for this poem that the world now remembers him. It might never have been published because McCrae was not happy with it and threw the poem away. Luckily a fellow officer rescued it and sent it to England where it was published in Punch on 8 December 1915. McCrae was wounded in May 1918 and died three days later.
It is because of McCrae's poem that poppies have become the flower of remembrance. The RSL sells millions of red cloth poppies each year around 11 November. Australians pin them to their lapels or shirts to honour our fallen servicemen and women. Proceeds from the sale go to RSL welfare work.
 n Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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