My great-grandfather fought and died in the Great War. I couldn't find anywhere selling red paper poppies (benighted colonials... ), so I thought I'd post some Kipling instead. I always seem to come back to Kipling :
quote: London Stone Nov. 11, 1923
WHEN you come to London Town, (Grieving—grieving!) Bring your flowers and lay them down At the place of grieving.
When you come to London Town, (Grieving—grieving!) Bow your head and mourn your own, With the others grieving.
For those minutes, let it wake (Grieving—grieving!) All the empty-heart and ache That is not cured by grieving.
For those minutes, tell no lie: (Grieving—grieving!) “Grave, this is thy victory; And the sting of death is grieving.”
Where’s our help, from Earth or Heaven. (Grieving—grieving!) To comfort us for what we’ve given, And only gained the grieving?
Heaven’s too far and Earth too near, (Grieving—grieving!) But our neighbour’s standing here, Grieving as we’re grieving.
What’s his burden every day? (Grieving—grieving!) Nothing man can count or weigh, But loss and love’s own grieving.
What is the tie betwixt us two (Grieving—grieving!) That must last our whole lives through? “As I suffer, so do you.” That may ease the grieving.