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.
—By John McCrae "
In Flanders Fields" is one of the most famous
poems about
World War I, and has been called "The most popular poem" produced by the war.
[1] It is written in the form of a French
rondeau. It was written by
Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel
John McCrae on May 3, 1915, after he witnessed the gruesome death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, the day before. The poem was first published on December 7, that year in
Punch magazine.
Thanks Shred and Burn