In Flanders Fields by John McRae

Áine on May 29th, 2004 filed in Random Poems

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.

Technorati Tags: Poppy, Random Poems

7 Responses to “In Flanders Fields by John McRae”

Afonso Says:
May 30th, 2004 at 1:53 am
This link is worth the visit:
http://www.inflandersfields.be/

I thought the poem was related to the WW2…my ignorance.
Aine Says:
May 30th, 2004 at 2:42 am
Thank you.
That is an excellent link.
Aine Says:
May 30th, 2004 at 2:52 am
“Inspired by McRae’s poem, American Moina Michael wore poppies to honor the war dead. She also began to sell poppies to raise money for disabled veterans. After meeting Moina Michael in 1920, Frenchwoman Madame E. Gu�rin started selling handmade poppies to raise money for poor children who were living in the aftermath of the Great War. Soon thereafter Field-Marshall Earl Haig, the former British Commander-in-Chief, encouraged the selling of paper poppies to raise funds for veterans. This tradition spread to Canada and then to the United States.” — The History and Poetry of “In Flanders Fields”
diane v. Says:
October 1st, 2004 at 1:53 pm
this is an ok site
babe kixz Says:
October 26th, 2004 at 10:10 pm
i love the poem it makes people remember the soldiers who died for us in both world wars
eric Says:
June 12th, 2005 at 11:08 am
can you give me a comment of the poem??
i must describe the poem at school
Aine Says:
June 12th, 2005 at 11:31 am
Eric, if you read the poem, and the links about it, you’ll understand what the poem is about. Your school teacher most likely wants YOUR thoughts about the poem and what it represents, not mine.