(no subject)

Nov 11, 2004 07:41

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.

Edit: Sorry to distract from the sombre nature of this post, but I have something terribly foolish to say. You may have heard of the sexual harrassment charges laid against Liza Minnelli by her bodyguard or whatever. I beseach you, tabloid editors, to use the headline "WHOA MIN-NELLI!" while reporting on this issue. Thank you.

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