On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, the First World War ended. Some of the bloodiest fighting of that war took place in the Flanders and Picardy regions of Belgium and Northern France. The poppy was the only thing which grew in the aftermath of complete devastation, so it's only right that it is now a symbol of regeneration, hope and sacrifice.
I couldn’t think of a better way to end 2008’s blog than to share John McCrae’s ‘In Flander’s Fields.’
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.
Until next year everyone!
Posted by PoppyMan