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 (1872-1918)

John McCrae's "In Flanders Fields" — perhaps the most popular poem of the war — was reprinted in The Ladies' Home Journal, November 1918, fortuitously in time for the Armistice on November 11, 1918. Note the irony (almost too good to be true, or is it simply insensitive bad taste?) of the sponsorship: "Bauer & Black Makers of Surgical Dressings, etc."