In Flanders Fields

I didn't do any post honoring our veterans on Veterans' Day, being in the middle of grandchild-welcoming ceremonies; but here is one of the classic mourning poems, with its final stanza that expresses so perfectly how most soldiers who lose their lives in honorable causes, would wish to be honored.

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.