Our Glorious Dead.
Dan 1,820, 06:30
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s strani
posidon303
A Poem Of Remembrance
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.
In Flanders Fields By John McCrae
Our Glorious Dead.
Below Lie The Names.
Arthur Hollowell
Mark Simpson
Charles White
David Collins
Caleb Rhodenizer
Alfred Crutchlow
(If You Know Someone (Anyone) Who Died In War Please Message Me So I Can Add Them To The List)
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They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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 condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die
Remembering all of the fallen heroes of this rainy island is the least I can do for the risks they take in the field of battle.
Lest we forget
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