Memorial Day

In Flanders Field

John McCrae, May 1915

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.

Memorials of Love

James Sullivan, Barre Massachusetts

Now I remember love

Now I remember love

The father’s for his wife and son

The cauldron of the mother’s feelings

And the son’s determination to remake the world

Clad in the uniform

In which the last war had been carried

Just so far

The young man marched till he had crawled

Within two meters of his goal

Nobody fails

Our lost objectives are coopted

In the view of love

Armistice is victory

Or else there is no love