On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of this year in the twenty-first century, we pause to honor our veterans on this Veterans Day and remember that first of the great world wars, which ended the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918.
To those who served, we thank you.
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.