Sunday, November 11, 2018

One Hundred November 11ths Ago

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.

1 comment:

  1. You are part of a search and rescue for lost Catholics.

    Regular updates to the countdown to the Day of the Lord by the sign of the Son of Man in Heaven at :

    http://risen-from-the-dead.forumotion.com/

    ReplyDelete