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.
![image showing Poppies in a field next to my home in Weinheim Germany. April 2016 [OC][3000x2000]](88afb661-9da8-55ea-a7e4-8e622224bd13.jpg)
Wuhaa on February 24th, 2018 at 14:07 UTC »
Henry, fetch this lovely lady some poppies
deecaf on February 24th, 2018 at 14:24 UTC »
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.
John McCraeawoody8 on February 24th, 2018 at 15:14 UTC »
Is this that battlefield 1 map?