Monday, May 30, 2011

In Memory

In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae, May 1915
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

Never forget their sacrifices.  Not only on Memorial Day, but everyday.


Storm'n Norm'n said...

Thanks so much for the words to this poem that I once knew so many years ago...
It was in fifth grade that I remember reading them for the first the time I was in sixth grade I knew them by heart!
Thanks again!

Maggie Thornton said...

In Flanders Fields is really the last word in the story of those who gave all.