On the 100th anniversary, My wife and I stood in the tiny â??field hospitalâ??
in Belgium where this poem was allegedly written. A muddy hole beneath a
concrete slab. An easily imagined window to hell. Powerfulâ?¦.
Glen Byrns
> On Nov 11, 2021, at 12:15 PM, Weslake1330 via Spridgets
> <spridgets@autox.team.net> wrote:
>
> 
> In Flanders Fields
> BY JOHN MCCRAE
>
> 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.
> ------------------------
>
>
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