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Monday, May 29, 2017

In Flanders Field - post author Don


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.


3 Comments so far


Rod Thompson
November 12th, 2014 at 11:16 am

Thank you for this… #VeteransDay


Mark Renshaw
November 11th, 2016 at 3:35 am

Such a haunting poem.


Dena McKinnon
November 12th, 2016 at 6:24 am

Wow strong but beautiful poem. Love this.

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