Rev Bill

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.

I learned this poem in the fifth grade — and still remember it word for word.

Even though it was written by a Canadian, John McCrae, describes the horrors of war and the sacrifice made by those who fight in wars.

On this Memorial Day, take time to remember the sacrifice made by those killed in wars, and give thanks for what they did — and what others are dong even today.

Read more about the poem “In Flanders Fields” here.

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