Saturday, November 12, 2011

Saturday Poetry -- In Flanders Fields

In honor of all who have served . . . 
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.
--John McCrae

1 comment:

  1. Hi Melanie, that poem makes me cry. Having stood by the graves at the Villers Bretonneux Australian National Memorial in France and walked among to poppies in the battle fields nearby it is hard not to get emotional when thinking of those who sacrificed their lives there.


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