The cousins clasped hands. That was Oliver’s final recognition of Doggie as a soldier and a man. Doggie had found his soul.
W. J. Locke.
IN FLANDERS FIELD
In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our places. 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 lift it high!
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies blow
In Flanders fields.
John McCrae.
IN FLANDERS FIELD
(AN ANSWER)
In Flanders fields, the cannon boom
And fitful flashes light the gloom,
While up above, like eagles, fly
The fierce destroyers of the sky;
With stains the earth wherein you lie
Is redder than the poppy bloom,
In Flanders fields.