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.
PRIVATE R BEAUCHAMP - Killed in Action
- 28 Nov 1915
PRIVATE H BUNDY - Killed in Action-31 Dec 1916
PRIVATE W GUMBLETON - Killed in Action-8 Oct 1916
PRIVATE F LIGHT - Killed in Action-21 March 1918
PRIVATE W COOMBS - Believed killed
in action 4 July 1916
SERVICEMEN OF WORLD WAR II
SERGEANT F B HARWOOD,
Killed on Active Service 21 March 1941
SERGEANT J TOMPKINS
Killed 5 May 1939
THOSE WHO RETURNED HOME CAN BE FOUND
The Soldier by Rupert Brooke
IF I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
It was French YMCA Secretary,
Madame Guerin, who in 1918 conceived the idea of selling silk poppies to help
needy soldiers. Poppies were first sold in England on Armistice Day in 1921 by
members of the British Legion to raise money for those who had been
incapacitated by the war
For the Fallen
by Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a
mother for her children,
England mourns for her
dead across the sea.
Flesh of her
flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,Fallen in the cause of the free.Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal.
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears. They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true
of eye, steady and aglow.They were staunch to the end against odds, Uncounted; They fell with their
faces to the foe.
They shall not grow
old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years
condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember
not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more
at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are
known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving
in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.