Poppies - Somme Battlefield

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 (1872-1918 )

Alexis Amid Anxiety Asthma Attacks Awake Battlefields Believed Bitter Blow Boulogne Bouts Bravely Bronchitis Buried Ceased Constant Continued Crosses Diagnosed Draft Failing Felt Flanders Freind Glow Grow Gunfire Heard Helmer Impression Larks Lived Loved Maimed Maur Mccrae Meningitis Mind Moved Nightmare None Occasional Occasionally Pneumonia Poppies Quarrel Scarce Seconds Seventeen Severe Sheil Sights Sixty Somme Surgeon Terrible Throw Troubled Weak Wimereux Wrote X2018 X2019 Ypres

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