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Day 1,817, 16:47 • Published in United Kingdom

• by Meklon Dramicus

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow ol😛
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

Comments

Meklon Dramicus Day 1,817, 16:59

As one former serviceman to all past, present and future servicemen and women, I salute you.

o>

Thomas765 Day 1,817, 18:06

Never forget o7

Voted.

ViciousDeeds Day 1,817, 19:47

Lisamunusira Day 1,817, 22:57

lancer450 Day 1,818, 00:07

Septuagenarian Day 1,818, 00:19

WayneKerr Day 1,818, 00:40

Neil Lewis Day 1,818, 01:50

Grampa Alfagrem Day 1,818, 02:20

Bucketman Day 1,818, 02:39

Destriant Day 1,818, 02:40

Keldonis Day 1,818, 02:41

MidnightShade Day 1,818, 02:41

BigAnt Day 1,818, 02:42

Never Forget

Rfeist Day 1,818, 02:50

Treacherous Day 1,818, 02:59

Vistulus Day 1,818, 03:06

Piran Day 1,818, 03:16

Samoss The Great Day 1,818, 04:04

We will remember them o7

nathaner Day 1,818, 04:10

Thedark ace Day 1,818, 04:11

Rawdon Day 1,818, 04:40

Danie Fox Day 1,818, 04:55

posidon303 Day 1,818, 04:57

Never Forget.
Always Remember.

Squadron Squadron Shun.
To Your Duties Dismissed.
o7

Alphabethis Day 1,818, 05:04

great respect

Prince Andrei Day 1,818, 05:08

HebronGazelle Day 1,818, 05:09

Cygnus X1 Day 1,818, 05:10

Carlini8 Day 1,818, 05:31

Lily Jayne Summers Day 1,818, 05:50

Pathogen Day 1,818, 05:54

BaskB Day 1,818, 06:00

Talon Karrde Day 1,818, 06:25

Ethel Rosenberg Day 1,818, 06:26

Arrlo Day 1,818, 06:28

Truth of the Sixteen Rays Sun Day 1,818, 06:30

Send love to Plato Day 1,818, 06:33

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.

Send love to Plato Day 1,818, 06:33

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.

Send love to Plato Day 1,818, 06:33

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.