National Poetry Month: Poem #10

In Flanders Fields


By John McCRae





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.

This poem is a rondeau, written by McCrae while a doctor in the trenches; he also died. Many Canadian soldiers volunteered for WWI after reading this. The poem was found in their pockets after they became casualties.