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 McCrea, 1915
«1 CommentsNovember 10, MMII»
You've arrived at the homepage of Stephen Stewart. The archive is available here for those who want it. This site is happily hosted by Dreamhost. Click for more?
More!? OK then, but I can't help feeling that this will be a disappointment to you.
I work as a web designer in Belfast, and I live by the sea in a shoe. You can see me here, doing my livejournal pose as idoru called it. If you need to you can email me at carisenda -at- gmail -dot- com.
i think this is a wounderful le