(Hopefully, traffic and time allowing, Alan Rolfe is going to call in at my home for a coffee, a break and a short chat as he passes my junction of the M1 on the way home from Northumberland today.)
This plaque is on the side of the summer house in the garden of Wightwick Manor, near Wolverhampton and was retrieved from the old Mander Brothers factory nearby. Mander Brothers produced inks, varnishes and paints on a large scale and were, at one time, one of the areas leading employers. How pleasing to learn that they found time to honour members of their own staff who lost their lives in World War II, including it seems a member of the family.
For The Fallen
With 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 contemn.
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 of 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.
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