I cannot tell you how many times I was given the assignment to memorize, In Flanders Fields. Seems to me it was every November, throughout grade school!
Sadly, when I tried to remember it just a few days ago, I could only recall a few lines, but thanks to Google, I was able to quickly pull it up for a refresher.
It’s a lovely poem with a sound both sober and lilting–if that’s possible–perhaps because it takes me back to childhood. And while I always hated getting called on to recite it in front of the class, I always liked the way I felt when I said the words. Even now, when I read it out loud, it echoes in my heart.
So this November 11th, known here in Canada as Remembrance Day, I give to you, In Flanders Fields.
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
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae
Author Kathryn Jane, loves poppies, poetry, people, and cats!