In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

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.




8 responses

  1. Thanks for posting this poem. It has such a haunting feeling for me, especially this year. Just returned from a wonderful trip of our nation”s capitol and visiting Arlington. The guide quoted part of the poem and presented us with a silk poppy at the end of our visit. Had visited the Vietnam War Memorial prior where I located the name of my friend on the wall. Brings everything home when you witness all the names and see the rows of white headstones. Could have stayed there all day. Changing of the guard at The Tomb of the Unknowns was done with such respect and dignity. If only all would remember that freedom, for those who fought for it, has a taste the protected will never know.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think a lot of folks don’t even think about it, but visiting the war memorials makes it all so very real. I don’t remember what grade it was, but I had to memorize this poem in school. I don’t even think students have to memorize any poetry any more, let alone something as poignant as this poem is. Glad you had a wonderful trip to D.C.


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