In Flanders Fields
with some reply poems
In Flanders Fields
by Major John McCrae, MD
[This poem (initially called We Shall Not Sleep) was
composed by a Canadian Army surgeon, attached to 1st Field
Artillery Brigade, in response to the death of his friend,
Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, on 2 May 1915 in the Ypres salient;
first published 8 December 1915 by "Punch" magazine.]
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.
We Shall Keep the Faith
by Moina Michael
[established the poppy as the symbol of remembrance for The Great
War on 9 November 1918]
Oh! You who sleep in Flanders' Fields
Sleep sweet — to rise anew;
We caught the torch you threw,
And holding high we kept
The faith with those who died.
We cherish, too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led.
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
But lends a lustre to the red
On the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders' fields.
And now the torch and Poppy red
Wear in honour of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught:
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders' fields.
America's Answer
by R.W. Lillard
Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead
The fight that you so bravely led
We've taken up. And we will keep
True faith with you who lie asleep,
With each a cross to mark his bed,
And poppies blowing overhed,
When once his own life-blood ran red
So let your rest be sweet and deep
In Flanders Fields.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
The torch ye threw to us we caught,
Ten million hands will hold it high,
And freedom's light shall never die!
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders' fields.
Wonderful Poppies of Flanders
There's a land across the ocean
where the scarlet poppies grow
And the bird's sweet song is saddened,
As if they really know.
'Tis a place where countless heroes
For their country nobly died
Though I'm sad and lonely now
I often think with pride:
Wonderful poppies of Flanders
Flowers of brilliant hue.
Flowers that the angels,
Have washed with their tears.
They bring me comfort,
Through long, lonely years.
I've read a story of love divine
In your petals of brilliant red.
God, in his goodness, has sent you to mark
The graves of our glorious dead.
Wonderful poppies of Flanders
Flowers of brilliant hue.
Flowers that the angels,
Have washed with their tears.
They bring me comfort,
Through long, lonely years.
There is love, devotion, honour
In each little scarlet flower.
I'd kiss each one so fondly
If I had but the power.
May the angels always tend you
Is my constant hope and prayer.
For I know that God remembers.
All the heroes sleeping there.
Wonderful poppies of Flanders
Flowers of brilliant hue.
Flowers that the angels,
Have washed with their tears.
They bring me comfort,
Through long, lonely years.
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