Flanders Field, Poem

WWI ended on the 11th month, the 11th hour on the 11th day.

In Flanders Fields (May 3, 1915)
Lt Col. John McCrae, MD

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 amidst 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.

Btw, Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918) was a Canadian poet, physician, author, artist and soldier during World War I, and a surgeon during the Second Battle of Ypres, in Belgium. 

"To be killed in a war is not the worst that can happen. To be lost is not the worst. To be forgotten is the worst.” Pierre Claeyssens (1909–2003)