In Flanders fields the poppies blow

I pause today, as many millions of others do, to remember. To remember the end of the War to end all Wars on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month and the fallen ever since, around the world, who have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

Source: Daily Telegraph (UK)

No research, no analysis, no commentary just a poem by John McCrae lest we forget:


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.