In Flanders Fields

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) Canadian Army

About Lafe

Lafe is a beer and computer geek who occasionally writes his thoughts for the world to see.
This entry was posted in Holidays. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to In Flanders Fields

  1. jeremy tidmore says:

    i like the poem. we buried my dad at the national cemetary in Beaufort, SC about a year ago and this rings home.

    hey by the way – thanks for fixing our computer problem!

Leave a Reply