The Poppy Appeal in Stotfold & Arlesey
Thank You to all the people of Stotfold and Arlesey who have been so generous again.
In the spring of 1915, shortly after losing a friend in Ypres, a Canadian doctor, Lt Col John McCrae was inspired by the sight of poppies growing in battle scared fields, to write a now famous poem called 'In Flanders Fields'. After the First World War, the poppy was adopted as a symbol of Remembrance.
Due to you, the Public, kindness and consistent contributions to this fund, we as a Branch continue year on year too increase our funds purely through contributions raised for the Poppy Appeal.
We thank you all for any and all donations made be they, as a young girl put 2p in our pot from her pocket money of which I personally was moved by, to those of our community who put in whatever they could afford and were able to do, we thank you all.
It is these donations which enable us to support so many people and ensure they and there dependants live happier lives.
Who can ask for more?
Annual Poppy appeal:
McCrae’s poem in turn inspired an American academic, Moina Michael to make and sell red silk poppies which were then brought to England by a French lady, Anna Guérin. The (Royal) British Legion, formed in 1921, ordered 9 million of the poppies which were sold on 11 November that year. The poppies sold out almost immediately and that first ever 'Poppy Appeal' raised over £106,000, a considerable amount of money at the time, which was used to help WW1 veterans with employment, housing etc.
Anyone interested in helping in the next Poppy Appeal should contact our Poppy Appeal Organiser and Branch Chairman:-
Andy Fievez on: 01462 731811
IN FLANDERS FIELDS
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.