Memorial Day

Every Memorial Day we see the familiar poppies and remember our nation’s war dead. Recalling those that died from the Revolutionary War down through today.

In Flanders fields the poppies grow

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.

Click here to see the news of his death during World War I and burial there in Belgium. Printed in the Kansas City Star. 5 February 1918, page 10