Memorial Day and the Poppie
In Flanders Fields
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 scare heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset low, 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 you break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders fields.
This poem, written during World War I, is a tribute to all who have given their lives to preserve our freedom. May we pause this weekend to remember our fallen heroes, the men and women who answered the call of freedom and paid the ultimate sacrifice.
Today, in America, we wear the red poppy to honor the brave men and women who sacrificed everything for our country.