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.
Love, Charlestown xoxo.
(photo from Wehearit)
(photo from Wehearit)
My thoughts are with them.x
ReplyDeletebeautiful picture and what a stunning poem. i love how powerful and poignant words can be sometimes - war poetry never ceases to bring a tear to my eye and leave my totally speechless.
ReplyDeletetake care <3 Holz oxo