Sunday 11 November 2012

The Poppies Blow...

Canadian Stretcher bearers, Flanders, 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.

John McCrae 

French patrol in a trench, 1916

*both photos from
 The Heritage of the Great War


  1. We were taught that poem as small children in school.. it still gives me chills.
    Wonderful post!

  2. Thanks Dawn.

    Yes, that poem still gets me every time.

  3. It's taken me a while to understand just how important those soldiers were to us, this far away, but now I do know, and I wrote about it.

  4. Hi G~G

    I read your post - sad, but beautifully expressed. Thank you for reminding me to come over and read.



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