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Friday, 11 November 2011

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the 11th year



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.

                                                                    John McRae

2 comments:

  1. V.Friday, 11 November, 2011

    That was always one of my favourites.

    ReplyDelete
  2. chrysalisSaturday, 12 November, 2011

    Photograph and poem are absolutely lovely, Louise. We had 2 minutes silence in our Asda supermarket.

    ReplyDelete

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