For Memorial Day . . .

In Flanders Fields 
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army 

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.


In memory of those Americans who gave their lives in battle.
And in memory of the uncounted others around the world who also did so.


Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

For those who gave all, on Memorial Day . . .

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

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.

In memory of the nearly 3 million Americans who, from the Revolutionary War on, gave their lives in battle.

And in memory of the uncounted others around the world who also did so.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.