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7:54pm Friday
In honor of my grandfather, a chaplain who serviced the wounded and dying on the battlefields of France. This was his favorite poem.
by John McCrae, May 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.
Comments
That's powerful, Robin. Thank you.
standstrong
Very moving poem. I watched the movie "The Thin Red Line" with my husband and oldest son tonight. It is about WW2 and it really gets to me. Just thinking of all those young men dying and being wounded is horrible. You know they must have been scared to death, even though they behaved bravely. And many of them were just kids. War is so horrible. To live with having to kill anyone, even an "enemy" has to be so traumatic. It really made me think about Memorial Day and what these service people have sacrificed.
Need2change
Makes me think of all the men and women who are fighting for us and who have sacraficed so much.Very touching poem.
Liz1262
Avery strong poem, god bless.
jacki1