Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
      — Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
      Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; 
      Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
      And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
 
What candles may be held to speed them all?
      Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
      The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen

  'nuff said.

 Tonight there is something commemorative down at the Cathedral to mark 100 years since the ending of WW1.  I went down to try and get a shot of what was going on, but by the time I got off the bus the rain had started to tip down.  My umbrella got blown inside out and began running away.  I got soaked, so did the camera!  So instead of hanging around, here is a slightly strange light sculpture on the Cathedral Green which represents, I believe, the men from Hampshire (or the Hampshire Regiment?) who never came home from WW1.


   xx