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.
A Response to Those 'In Flanders Fields,' by Chris Farrell, Anno Domini 2011.
Our Fathers passed with their last breath
That we might not know freedom's death
A Torch to light the way.
They warned us well to hold it high
And shine it on advancing lie
Distinguishing the gray
That they might rest in Peace and sleep
Assured that our Faith runs as deep
As theirs did in their day.
Now, to our shame, our nation's turned away from rows of crosses
Unto the Liberal legion's lies and "democratic" bosses.
We've dropped the everlasting Flame purchased at such great cost;
Our foe's advanced and taken ground, but all is not yet lost.
If, turning from our wicked ways, we seek His face anew,
The Lord will bless this land again and everything we do.
For LIBERTY our fathers died that others might live FREE.
Take up the Torch that shines their Light that yours too It may be.
"The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the republican model of government, are...staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people."—George Washington, First Inaugural Address, 1789
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