Remembrance Day

In the spirit of Remembrance Day, we at The Little Costume Shop are displaying our miniature red wedding dress in commemoration of those men who fought so bravely on this day in 1918.

As is the case with a poppy, the smaller size of the dress only adds to the beauty along with the draping and beading done by a remarkably skilled hand.

Photograph by George Chinn

 We leave you with this poem "Why Wear a Poppy?" by the poet Dan Crawford.

“Please wear a Poppy,” the lady said,


And held one forth, but I shook my head,


Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,


And her face was old and lined with care;


But beneath the scars the years had made


There remained a smile that refused to fade. 

A boy came whistling down the street,


Bouncing along on carefree feet,


His smile was full of joy and fun:


“Lady,” said he, “May I have one?”


When she pinned it on he turned to say,


“Why do we wear a poppy today?”
 


The lady smiled in her wistful way,


And answered, “This is Remembrance Day,


And the poppy there is a symbol for


The gallant ones who died in war,


And because they did, you and I are free,


That’s why we wear the poppy, you see.
 


I had a boy about your size,


With golden hair and big blue eyes.


He loved to play and jump and shout,


Free as a bird he would race about.


As the years went by he learned and grew,


And became a man – as you will, too.
 


But the war went on and he had to stay,


And all I could do was wait and pray.


His letters told of the dreadful plight,


(I can see it still in my dreams at night)


With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,


and the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.
 


Till at last, at last, the war was won –


And that’s why we wear a poppy, son.”


The small boy turned as if to go,


Then said, “Thanks lady, I’m glad to know,


That sure did sound like an awful fight,


But your son – did he come back all right?”
 


A tear rolled down each faded cheek:


She shook her head but didn’t speak.


I slunk away in a sort of shame,


And if you were me you’d have done the same:


For our thanks, in giving, is oft delayed


Though our freedom was bought


And thousands paid.
 


And so when we see a poppy worn,


Let us reflect on the burden borne,


By those who gave their very all,


When asked to answer their country’s call.


That we at home in peace might live.
 


Then wear a poppy,


Remember


And give.