The Eleventh Hour…
The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month…
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.– John McCrae
Please let us pause for a moment on this Armistice Day to mark the end of “The Great War”. Here in the United States on this date we honor all those veterans who have served our country.
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