11 november

Tijd om nog eens stil te staan bij dit gedicht.  Omdat WO I nooit vergeten mag worden.

In Flanders Field
door John McCrae

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
 he 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.


05:00 Gepost door juf Maaike | Permalink | Commentaren (0) |  Facebook |

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