Posted: 11/11/2009 1:19:17 AM EDT
...for those far from home, doing dangerous and unpleasant things on our behalf: stay safe and stay lucky. |
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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. Lest we forget... |
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Quoted:
http://i189.photobucket.com/albums/z120/planejanel/394876159KjLflQ_ph-1.jpg ...for those far from home, doing dangerous and unpleasant things on our behalf: stay safe and stay lucky. Brings to mind the DKM song 'Green fields of France'. A wonderful mornin' to you miss Jane, and thank you kindly |
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Quoted:
Quoted:
http://i189.photobucket.com/albums/z120/planejanel/394876159KjLflQ_ph-1.jpg ...for those far from home, doing dangerous and unpleasant things on our behalf: stay safe and stay lucky. Brings to mind the DKM song 'Green fields of France'. A wonderful mornin' to you miss Jane, and thank you kindly I almost posted a link that song, but it has a little too much emphasis on the futility of the sacrifices of the "Willie McBrides". But the lyrics of the second verse make me tear up whenever I hear them: And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined? And, though you died back in 1916, To that loyal heart are you forever 19? Or are you a stranger without even a name, Forever enshrined behind some glass pane, In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained, And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? They're not truly gone as long as one person remembers them and honors their sacrifice. It's the least we can do for those who have given us so much and received so little in return. Jane |
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And let us not forget the British tribute "For the Fallen." One of these lines is inscribed on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier:
For The Fallen With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free. Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears. They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted; They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam. But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night; As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain. |
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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. |