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Robert Laurence Binyon - The English Youth
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There is a dimness fallen on old fames.
 Our hearts are solemnized with dearer names
 Than Time is bright with: we have not heard alone,
 Or read of it in books; it is our own
 Eyes that have seen this wonder; like a song,
 It is in our mouths for ever. There was wrong
 Done, and the world shamed. Honour blew the call;
 And each one`s answer was as natural
 And quiet as the needle`s to the pole.
 Who gave must give himself entire and whole.
 So, books were shut; and young dreams shaken out
 In cold air; dear ambitions done without,
 And a stark duty shouldered. And yet they
 Who now must narrow to their arduous day
 Did not forget their nurture, nor the kind
 Muses of earth, nor joys of eager mind,--
 Graced in their comradeship, and prizing more
 Life`s beauty, and all the sweetness at the core,
 Because of that loathed business they were set
 To do and finish. It was the world`s debt,
 Claiming all: but they knew, and would not wince
 From that exaction on their flesh; and since
 They did not seek for glory, our hearts add
 A more than glory to that hope they had
 And gloriously and terribly achieved.

 O histories of old time, half--believed,
 None needs to wrong the modesty of truth
 In matching with your legend England`s youth!
 But all renown that fearless arms could win
 For proud adventuring wondrous Paladin
 Is glimmering laurel now: Romance, that was
 The coloured air of a forgotten cause
 About the heads of heroes dead and bright,
 Shines home. We are accompanied with light
 Because of youth among us; and the name
 Of man is touched with an ethereal flame;
 There is a newness in the world begun,
 A difference in the setting of the sun.
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