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.
* All photos taken 10-31-07 in and around Neuville-St.-Vaast, Souchez & Vimy, France.
Thank a vet this weekend.
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My father was at Vimy. I look at the pictures of the crosses and think, Dad could be laying there, except for the grace of God, he was spared and here I am. Why?
Awsome pictures great work!!