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.

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.

In Flanders Fields--100 Years after Armistice

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 casualites.

National Poetry Month: Poem #10

In Flanders Fields John McCrae, 1872 - 1918

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.

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 casualites.

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 casualites.

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 casualites.

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 casualites.