Posted on 11/10/2008 10:54:03 PM PST by IncPen
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.
The link is to Medal of Honor recipients from WWI.
Never forget.
Thank you for posting this IncPen.
I read a serviceman’s letter that this reminds me much of: he went to battle on the Normany invasion.
Yes, we must always honor them.
May we NEVER forget what all of these Soldiers fought and died for!
“All gave some, some gave all.”
I knew this poem by heart by the time I was eight. Would get up on my birthday, put the flag up half mast with my dad then went to our town’s Memorial Day service where some guy in the V.F.W recited this poem. Afterwards, returned home, raised the flag to full mast and had my birthday cake with flags and toy soldiers on it. I was named after a M.o.H. recipient (my uncle). The price and value of freedom were understood in out household, but then, it was the fifties. I miss those days when honor and patriotism were real.
The poem still pops into my head at the oddest times.
My grandfather, William T. Hardin, received the DSC during the War, and my grandmother’s brother was also wounded at the same battle.
Thank you, Grandfather, for answering the call and standing brave, even though wounded when your men needed you.
And thank you, all the other brave souls who fought and suffered. We remember you, and honor your memory.
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Original handwritten manuscript of the poem, penned in Flanders Fields.
I too had to remembered it about that same age. And I still can recite most of it. A noble poem.
These words bring tears.
:^(
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World War I produced the finest war poetry of the ages - some is patriotic, some sentimental, some bitter. All is worth reading on days like this.
For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)
That’s one of my favorite poems. The sight of all those crosses in Ypres really chokes you up.
ping
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