With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
They shall not grow 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.
We too should make ourselves empty, that the great soul of the universe may fill us with its breath.
We are living in a time of trouble and bewilderment, in a time when none of us can foresee or foretell the future.