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.
— Canadian-Army Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
p.s. I shall be gone for the next few (so, to honour my daddy and every brave soul who made the ultimate — nearly unthinkable — sacrifice for our freedom, I post this a tad early; I hope you will indulge me) ^i^
What a difference in outlook from that of so many people today. Heroes still exist, and always shall, but we do not live in a heroic age.
ReplyDeleteSadly, Frank, your sense is too true to make light of it. If we did live in an heroic age, I am sure that such so-called niceties as "please," "thank you," "excuse me," and "how can I help?" might still be part of our everyday currency.
ReplyDeleteIMO, David Harvey and Terry Eagleton really nailed the reasons why we're so bloody rude; and, yes, it has everything to do with the post-human post-cultural post-modern palaverations and their insidious proliferations where, paradoxically, it's almost "cool" to be extremely rude.
Some days, when I think of my father, I wonder how he'd feel about Gitmo, e.g.; other days, I'm glad he didn't live to witness what you and I cannot help but see (even though it buggers our humane sense of decency and honour).