Wednesday, 11 November 2015

Lest we forget...

[A trifle late in the day, as I've been Dad's Taxi for a son with mock GSCE's and a wife who forgot something to take to her evening work today.]

Taken on a visit to the Tower last Remembrance Sunday
As a mark of respect, I normally post something today: every year the whole concept seems to gain more controversy, but I will make no apology for marking the day, and the sacrifice of those who died doing what they saw as their duty.

Our Vicar is a Canadian army veteran - he'll be a decade or so older than me, a solid, gruff man who one wouldn't think was prone to be emotional. John McRae's "In Flanders Fields", as Father George read it aloud during our act of Remembrance on Sunday, is one of the very few times I've ever heard him struggle for words.
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.

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