Excerpt from University of London Officers Training Corps, Roll of War Service, 1914-1919
As they made in common an offering of their lives, they each received praise that will not grow old and the noblest of tombs, not in the place where they lie, but rather where, on every occasion calling for word or deed, their fame is left behind them in everlasting remembrance.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather"d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass).
And ye shall die before your thrones be won.
Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun
Shall move and shine without us, and we lie
Dead; but if she too move on earth and live,
But if the old world with all the old irons rent
Laugh and give thanks, shall we not be content?
Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die.
Life being so little and death so good to give.
Swinburne (The Pilgrims).
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