Remember the 11th of November 1918

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.

 I couldn't resist copying the poem In Flanders Fields which though pompous at times is very evocative too. Poppies have never been the same after World War I.
I made some researches today about Remembrance Day though I think I won't be able to teach anything about it to my pupils this year and I came across the picture above of a 18-year-old English private who died in 1916 in the Somme.

His mum called him Billie Boy in her  moving comment and wrote he was one of the best. The best and the not so good died in this not so Phoney war.