Cool, white, simple, it stood and around, with heads bowed, our representatives.
Two minutes from our busy lives. So small a thing for those who gave so much.
Courtesy BBC was able to stand here and watch at the appropriate time, remember, say a quiet thank you, could not prevent a tear, did not feel it wasted. Another poem that sprang to mind was by WB Yeats.
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death
Last edited by Paterbrat; 10th November 2003 at 05:17.