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.
Thank a vet this weekend.
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Very nicely done. Out here where I live (the other Washington), there are a lot of little abandoned church or town graveyards that haven't been tended in years. My wife and I have attempted to visit them all in our county, and it always makes me sad to see untended graves of vets from many wars (our Civil War through Korea). We always hope they rest easier because we stopped by to say thanks.