In Flanders Fields by 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. 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. This is the whole poem ... We had to memorize it when I was in about the 4th grade. - poem shared by Holly Easley (87 years old... and also my mom). Never forget.
Posted on: Sun, 25 May 2014 14:29:15 +0000
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