Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Wednesday poetry break

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.

— John McCrae

3 comments:

Mary Ellen said...

That's a beautiful poem. I've heard it before, but for some reason, today it brings even more sadness to my heart. Thank you.

Mauigirl said...

I love this poem. There were many wonderful poems that came out of World War I. Did you know McCrae was a Canadian? (bit of trivia there).

DCup said...

Beautiful poem and image. I love the sharing of poetry. Thank you.