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In memoriam
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoWe 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 dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
Every Memorial Day, I read this poem and remember the charge given us by the fallen. To assist our Pinterest-ready, Buzzfeeding world, I highlighted my favorite bit in the adjacent graphic.
Enjoy your day to the fullest. But above all, remember.
Published in General
I don’t want to be picky, but I think it’s “In Flanders fields the poppies grow.”
Actually the author’s original is “blow” but was later changed to “grow” when republished later in a popular periodical.
I didn’t know the Americans cite this poem. It’s a Remembrance day staple in Canada.
It feels bad to be sardonic even on a holiday like today’s. Please tell me this feeling won’t last forever.
I grew in in Canada in the ’50s and this was one of the first poems we learned. Together with High Flight, they were the staples of Remembrance Day which is November 11th.