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 belowWe 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.-- Major John McCrae
The history of Memorial Day. How will you celebrate our beloved dead?
1 comment:
I love that poem!..thank you for posting it.
I did some remembering myself.We so much need to know the measure of things.
Have a great week.
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