In Flanders Fieldsby John McCrae In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we … Continue reading In Flanders Fields, by John McCrae (Remembrance Day 2022)
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? / Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? / Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?