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
This morning I'm off to the Royal Artillery Park and then the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic for two separate Remembrance Day ceremonies. When I get home I'll give my grandmother, who is a WWII veteran, a phone call and then I'll begin working on something for the men and women of today's Canadian Forces who are proudly holding that torch high and taking up the quarrel with our foe. Details will follow...