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
Composed at the battlefront on May 3, 1915
during the second battle of Ypres, Belgium
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae
Lady Budd 
a moving and fitting tribute, Becky, thank you x
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Thinking of you especially today. Thank you for your visit and comments! Many hugs…
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Hi Becky,
That is a poem I was taught to memorize when I was in elementary school and have never forgotten. It can still bring tears to my eyes when I hear it recited.
Did you do that marvellous composition of poppies? It’s got your name on it and it is just wonderful.
Betty
Sent from my iPad
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It still brings tears to my eyes, too. In fact, when I read it aloud, I find that my voice wavers. Thank you so much for your encouraging comments about the photo. It is mine – I’m trying different artistic ideas out. You continue to inspiration me to expand my creative endeavours.
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With gratitude and honor. The poem is one of the most moving.
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Yes – with gratitude and honour. When my father went to war in the 1940’s, after his farewell to the family, my grandmother went to the piano and played a hymn. That is what he heard as he headed down the road. May we never forget the sacrifice of many…
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We remember… always ❤
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Well said, Christy! Hugs.
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I am so glad to find this beautiful poem here – it too makes me misty eyed when reading it. I also liked your story about your grandma playing the piano when her husband went to war.
PS, I am home again at last!
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I am so happy to hear that you are back at home!! You have been in my thoughts and prayers over the past weeks. Take good care of yourself. Hugs!!
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Dearest Rebecca, I have been reading this work of art, a poem ’tis said, be it so-called suffices not to draw attention to its beauty and the emotional pull on our heart strings. These words, that have brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat since too long ago to remember when, displays the picture it inspires, so very large and throbbing with life, and yes of death, of children described as young men. An ever so sad picture has never faded from my mind, and will be there until I’ve drawn my last breath. As will the monsters on both sides of the issue of war, remain responsible for depriving the youth of these warring nations, then and now, from living as full a life as the originators of these conflicts, whose constant search for more, has little to do with the defence of our respective countries, indifferent to the young who are made to die so innocently.
To take up their quarrel with the foe… that foe… where thus thou hide, that we may find to bury you forever, that our young may live their lives in full!
Jean-Jacques
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Dearest Jean-Jacques. How very well said – “that our young may live their lives in full.” Thank you for your profound insights. Je me souviens.
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This is the most beautiful and moving poems ever written. Thank you for sharing. Very important!
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So glad that you enjoyed this post – no matter how often I read it or hear a recitation – I feel the enormous sense of gratitude for those who serve.
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Such a moving poem, I never see poppies without thinking of it…and so sad that in England, the wearing of poppies has become something for PC ‘liberals’ to sneer at, and use labels like imperialist, racist, war-mongering etc.
History is our heritage, and gratitude for the sacrifices of our ancestors is an honorable deed…these are strange times, and valuing the past gives us a compass for the present, it seems to me !!!
with love, Valerie
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I agree wholeheartedly, Valerie. How can we not remember the sacrifices? How can we forget that lives were cut short, that sorrow came to their families. Where is the reverence, the compassion, the willingness to follow in the courageous steps of those that fought for something greater than themselves? I often think of J.R.R. Tolkien’s war experience that influenced his writing. I especially like this passage from The Two Towers: “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” Thank you for your insight that adds depth to this important moment.
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