Lt. Col. John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
2 comments:
I think I might have told you this before, but last year, here in Rochester the Ladies were out on Armistice Day (That's what they still called it, and who am I to disagree) handing out paper poppies to all and sundry. The two Youths in front of me on the sidewalk eagerly took a poppy each, and as they walked down the sidewalk, commented how wonderful it is that these old folks celebrate "Gay Pride" week.
I fear someday that my dedication to civil liberties will be overly strained by the vapid know-nothings I am daily forced to endure.
Larry in Rochester
Oh, Larry,
I love that story!
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