With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
Two children, all alone and no one by, Holding their tattered frocks, thro'an airy maze Of motion lightly threaded with nimble feet Dance sedately; face to face they gaze, Their eyes shining, grave with a perfect pleasure. — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
We are living in a time of trouble and bewilderment, in a time when none of us can foresee or foretell the future. — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn At the going… — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
We are living in a time of trouble and bewilderment, in a time when none of us can foresee or foretell the future. But… — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
Two children, all alone and no one by, Holding their tattered frocks, thro'an airy maze Of motion lightly threaded with nimble feet Dance sedately;… — Laurence Binyon Copy Share Image
