This beautiful Poem is taken from a little book I have of First World War Poetry, and the Poppy is from our own garden, just last week.
 
JOHN McCRAE 1872-1918

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. 

 Till next time then………………