Every year on Memorial Day, I post the text of John McCrae’s immortal poem, “In Flanders Fields.” This year, as I was preparing the post, I received an email from my friend, Grady Smith with the text of the poem. So I yield to Grady and post his rendering of the poem.
Let us all remember this day those who gave their lives that we might live in freedom.
In Flanders Fields
John McCrae – 1872-1918
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.
Tom Glenn, Writer 