For The Fallen

We remember and give thanks to those in uniform this Memorial Day, especially the ones who gave the ultimate sacrifice. If you see a vet selling poppies, buy one and wear it.


By Lt. Col. John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies grow

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.

Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,?

Sleep sweet -- to rise anew!?

We caught the torch you threw

?And holding high, we keep the Faith?

With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red?

That grows on fields where valor led;

?It seems to signal to the skies

?That blood of heroes never dies,?

But lends a lustre to the red?

Of the flower that blooms above the dead

?In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red?

We wear in honor of our dead.?

Fear not that ye have died for naught;?

We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought

?In Flanders Fields.


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