In Flanders Fields

[Jaguarundi]

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.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

[Jaguarundi]

[Jaguarundi]

In memory of both my Grandfathers and Great Uncle who were veterans of the western front in the war to end all wars.May they rest in peace.

[reo]

If we can adore those who have gone
then how much more we thank our God
For He alone knows the sorrow of one
Who has lost and still admires those
In hate would kill that which he adores

Forgive us now, be our trumpet for Him
Do not allow weakness to prevail but
Forgive us ours our triumphant King

Look upon our field of shame and draw
Us out upon the limb, and find us pure
For know one knows us as our Lord
For He begat that which we claim
In our field we lay in blame...
A sinner dies and lives again

[AJMD429]

Hope they can forgive us for throwing so much of what they fought for away.

Hope we can regain our senses, and our freedom.

[Ysabel Kid]

Hope they can forgive us for throwing so much of what they fought for away.

Hope we can regain our senses, and our freedom.

+1

[donw]

i haven't heard "flanders field" in years! we were required to read and recite it when i was in grade school...

my, now deceased, ex-father-in-law, was a veteran of WWI who was severely wounded at verdun.

he did not like to speak of it.

war, is not good for mankind, but it seems to be in his nature to wage war.

[jnyork]

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

8 October 1917 - March, 1918

1 DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country