On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

I learned this poem as a kid, a time when patriotism was still taught in school. I wonder how many kids have even heard of this poem which so eloquently tells the story of this day.

It was written by Lt. Col. John McRae of the Canadian Army in WWI. He saw combat and had to deal with the aftermath. This poem is a result of what he experienced. Please share with friends and family,

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.

John McRae died in 1918 of Pneumonia.