In Flanders Fields the
poppies blow
Between the crosses row on
row,
That mark our place; and in
the sky
The lards, 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.
By Lieutenant Colonel John
McCrae, MD
Canadian Army
Lieutenant Colonel John
McCrae, M.D., “In Flanders Field,” Arlington
Cemetery
(http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/flanders.htm
: accessed 28 May 2012).
These poppies from Flanders
Field were a gift from Robert Meyer to his mother. Bob was a World War II
veteran who visited Flanders Field in 1941 where he picked these poppies.
His brother, Paul, is a
Korean War veteran. He followed his older brother’s lead and sent this Japanese
rose home for his mother. Both wartime gifts were obviously appreciated as she
preserved they remain preserved in her Bible.
Throughout the generations,
our families have been blessed. Sons survived battle and were able to return
home safely. My uncle, Richard Dollen, is our only fatality and is the reason
why his mother passed out poppies each Memorial Day.
Freedom isn’t free. May God
bless those who died in service to our country. May God also bless those who
have served, presently serve and those who will serve.
Linda


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