"Greater love hath no man than this, that
a man lay down his life for his friends."
Brass plaque under the war memorial.
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of workand joy, and that unhoped serene,
That men call age; and those whoe would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
