Sunday, August 3, 2014

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.


I The Beholder said...

Recent photo i seen on ( showed hundreds of thousands of poppys seeming to deluge out the window of a prominent british historical sight .. Possibly the tower of london.. Pouring down the near ancient walls of the structure and going further yet by the tens of thousands until all of the surrounding green grass was covered by the symbolic blood of the WWI fallen. 1 flower per soul... Profound!

Oberon said...

...yes profound !