Poppys

poppy

 

In Flanders Fields

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.

by John McCrae (1872-1918)

Above photo not taken anywhere near Flanders.  Actually taken at Kinver. A place in the Midlands of the UK where no one has fought any military battle for centuries (if ever).

I will thank Goethalsart for giving me the idea to post up the whole poem.  Go check out that excellent blog.

Thanks for looking!

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