Because we are going from our wonted places To be task-ridden by one shattering Aim, And terror hides in all our laughing faces That had no will to die, no thirst for fame, Hear our last word. In Hell we seek for Heaven; The agony of wounds shall make us clean; And the failures of our sloth shall be forgiven When Silence holds the songs that might have been, And what we served remains, superb, unshaken, England, our June of blossom that shines above Disastrous War; for whom we have forsaken Ways that were rich and gleeful and filled with love. Thus are we heroes; since we might not choose To live where Honour gave us life to lose.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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