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.
This poem was written by a Canadian Doctor in World War 1, he wrote this poem in memory of a friend. This poem was written as he was sitting on the back of a field ambulance parked at a field dressing station. He was killed during World War 1, but his poem survives and is told to school children throughout Canada. We remember all those who have lost their lives by paying the ultimate sacrifice for the freedom we enjoy today.
Tomorrow I will be thinking about my Grandpa Walter, Grandpa Ralph, David my father-in-law and all who have died for freedom. I am grateful to those who serve in the military today who keep us safe and protect our freedoms and country.
May God Bless you all, keep you safe and bring you home.