This is my first ever mobile post, coming to you at 1:30am EST from the Brussels airport. We're here just for a couple of hours on our way to Greece, and it being 8:30 am here and therefore definitely Poetry Friday, imagine my pleasure at being greeted by a ceiling hung with poppies and this installation which includes the famous poem "In Flanders Fields." We put Duncan in the photo because his assigned summer reading is All Quiet on the Western Front. (Nice and light for on the beach or by the pool.)
Here's the poem, and welcome to the 100th anniversary of WWI.
In Flanders Fields / John McCrae
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.
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.
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.
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.
The round-up today is with I can't tell who! Conserving data and seeing you on Saturday, maybe!
