By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae MD (1872 - 1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky,
The larks stil 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.
1 comment:
This is got to be one of the most powerful poems in the world. I can't read it anytime of the year without choking up, and around Rememberance Day? I usually can't get through the whole thing on one read.
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