11th Month, 11th Day, 11th Hour

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.
As I have told you all before, I remember my 5th grade teacher, Mr Milne, reciting this to us and breaking down in tears before he finished.  He did this for his class every year  
I have a matching garden size flag that is at the base of the flag pole where the national flag is flying today