In Flanders Fields, by John Macrae
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.
Love it.
ReplyDeleteHappy Memorial Day!
Nice post, Brianne. I appreciate so much those who have paid the price that we might live like we do. We are blessed to live in this free land of liberty, and I am so grateful to ALL who helped make it possible. Thank you for such a respectful post. ~Mom
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