by John McCrae, May, 1915 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, […]
May 29, 2016
In Flanders Fields
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Many years ago, I toured the battle site of the Battle of Vicksburg. Green, grassy knolls covered embankments from which cannons blazed death to opposing forces, a hundred years before. Once, the smoke of guns and the shouts and screams of dying and wounded men filled this battlefield. Now, all was quiet and birds sang. […]
