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Canada Lest We Forget

Discussion in 'Canada Discussion Boards' started by legoman, Nov 11, 2006.

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  1. legoman

    legoman Jedi Youngling star 3

    Jul 14, 2002
    They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.
    Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
    At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

  2. Darth_Haggis

    Darth_Haggis Jedi Master star 4

    Mar 21, 2002
    [blockquote]In Flanders 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.

    - John McCrae

    Reply to Flanders Fields

    Oh! sleep in peace where poppies grow;
    The torch your falling hands let go
    Was caught by us, again held high,
    A beacon light in Flanders sky
    That dims the stars to those below.
    You are our dead, you held the foe,
    And ere the poppies cease to blow,
    We'll prove our faith in you who lie
    In Flanders Fields.
    Oh! rest in peace, we quickly go
    To you who bravely died, and know
    In other fields was heard the cry,
    For freedom's cause, of you who lie,
    So still asleep where poppies grow,
    In Flanders Fields.

    As in rumbling sound, to and fro,
    The lightning flashes, sky aglow,
    The mighty hosts appear, and high
    Above the din of battle cry,
    Scarce heard amidst the guns below,
    Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,
    And guard the place where poppies grow.
    Oh! sleep in peace, all you who lie
    In Flanders Fields.

    And still the poppies gently blow,
    Between the crosses, row on row.
    The larks, still bravely soaring high,
    Are singing now their lullaby
    To you who sleep where poppies grow
    In Flanders Fields.

    - John Mitchell


    "Please wear a poppy," the lady said
    And held one forth, but I shook my head.
    Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
    And her face was old and lined with care;
    But beneath the scars the years had made
    There remained a smile that refused to fade.

    A boy came whistling down the street,
    Bouncing along on care-free feet.
    His smile was full of joy and fun,
    "Lady," said he, "may I have one?"
    When she's pinned in on he turned to say,
    "Why do we wear a poppy today?"

    The lady smiled in her wistful way
    And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
    And the poppy there is the symbol for
    The gallant men who died in war.
    And because they did, you and I are free -
    That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

    "I had a boy about your size,
    With golden hair and big blue eyes.
    He loved to play and jump and shout,
    Free as a bird he would race about.
    As the years went by he learned and grew
    and became a man - as you will, too.

    "He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
    But he'd seemed with us such a little while
    When war broke out and he went away.
    I still remember his face that day
    When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,
    I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry.

    "But the war went on and he had to stay,
    And all I could do was wait and pray.
    His letters told of the awful fight,
    (I can see it still in my dreams at night),
    With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
    And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.

    "Till at last, at last, the war was won-
    And that's why we wear a poppy son."
    The small boy turned as if to go,
    Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
    That sure did sound like an awful fight,
    But your son - did he come back all right?"

    A tear rolled down each faded check;
    She shook her head, but didn't speak.
    I slunk away in a sort of shame,
    And if you were me you'd have done the same;
    For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,
    Thought our freedom was bought -
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