In Flanders Fields
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, the grandson of two emigrants who arrived in Canada from Scotland in 1849, was an artillery officer in the Canadian Contingent in the Boer War, and served as an army surgeon in the First World War. His poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ was the source of the symbol of the poppy as a sign of remembrance of those who die in war.Read more about this poet