A story of class distinction, a people and their traditions, a family and its fate, a country and its fight against fascism, and a woman with a secret she must take to the grave.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
In Flanders field the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place;and in the sky
The Larks still bravely sing and fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
Two verses follow .... ending with:
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......
And all these years later we continue our wars 'while poppies grow in Flanders field.'
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