Image from here
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
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.
* I have much to say about the Muslim protests against British soldiers fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq but today is not a day to rant but remember and be silent.