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.
–Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918), who served in the Canadian Army
Thanks for posting this.
Yes, I too thank you, Kendall. This immortal poem still evokes the agony and futility of WWI more powerfully and movingly than any other words. My maternal grandfather served in France in the supposed War To End All Wars, and came back wounded, but alive. One of the lucky ones.
David Handy+