In Flanders Fields John McCrae, 1915.

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.              Moina Michael replied with her own poem:                                           We cherish too, the Poppy red                                 That grows on fields where valor led,                                  It seems to signal to the skies                                   That blood of heroes never dies.              Kathy:  "In Flanders Fields"  a great post.  And yes, we have a Mt               Pleasanter buried there, Charles Rutishauser, KIA June 1944.  And by                 comparison, a trivia note,  three versions of the poem, page 152, my  book. lee  (below)