November 11, 2009


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.

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.

- LTC John McCrae, MC, USA

Posted by LMC at November 11, 2009 04:37 PM | TrackBack

The Young Master is probably going to do to this poem, along with couple of others about WWI, for speech team this year. Do I have a cool kid, or what?

Posted by: the gripping hand at November 12, 2009 09:28 AM
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