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.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them...
:( As much as I love WWI poetry, it always breaks my heart. Which is the point, I know.
ReplyDeleteWe went to the War Memorial Service today - one good thing about living in Ottawa! It was as always very moving, under a beautiful blue sky. This is the only poem I've ever memorized, and that was because I had to read it out to a school assembly when i was 10 years old. My voice breaks at the same place every time, and the older I get, the more I cry by the time I finish! It is hearbreaking, like Nymeth says.
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting it, Kailana.
A really moving poem, Kelly. I read Wilfred Owen's Dulce Et Decorum Est today, too. I remember another one that I thought ended with something about someone dying in battle on the Continent and there being a "corner of England" there, but I don't remember what it is.
ReplyDeleteRemembering with you, Kailana.
ReplyDeleteI had one of my relatives send me down a couple of the lapel poppies so my husband and I could wear them. It's one of the things I miss about living in the States, as that is not something done here.
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