From: braley@binkley.cs.mcgill.ca (The Didi-Sprite)
Subject: Where Poppies Grow.
Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 18:05:31 GMT




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                       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.


					  by:  John McCrae


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                    REPLY  TO  IN  FLANDERS  FIELDS
                    ===============================

                 Oh!  sleep in peace where poppies grow;
		 The torch your failing hands let go
		 Was caught by us, again held high,
		 A beacon light in Flanders sky
		 That dims the stars to those below.
		 You are our dead, you held the foe,
		 And ere the poppies cease to blow,
		 We'll prove our faith in you who lie
		    In Flanders Fields.

                 Oh!  rest in peace, we quickly go
                 To you who bravely died, and know
		 In other fields was heard the cry,
		 For freedom's cuase, of you who lie,
		 So still asleep where poppies grow,
         	 In Flanders Fields.

		 As in rumbling sound, to and fro,
		 The lightning flashes, sky aglow,
		 The mighty hosts appear, and high
		 Above the din of battle cry,
		 Scarce heard amidst the guns below,
		 Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,
		 And guard the place where poppies grow.
		 Oh!  sleep in peace, all you who lie
		    In Flanders Fields.

                 And still the poppies gently blow,
		 Between the crosses, row on row.
		 The larks, still bravely soaring high,
		 Are singing now their lullaby
		 To you who sleep where poppies grow
		 In Flanders Fields.


				      by:  John Mitchell


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Submitted by:  The Didi-Sprite
on this:  The 11th Day of November, 1992

braley@binkley.cs.mcgill.ca