November 11, 2002
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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
Comments (4)
That poem moves me like no other. I still remember studying it in grade 8 language arts class.
Emily was just showing me her construction paper picture of crosses and wreaths. I asked her if she had learned this poem at school, and she said that the teacher had read it to them. So I did a google search for a copy that we could read together. If only I'd known that it was right here.
Thank you for sharing that.
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