In Flanders Fields

Memorial Day was originally a celebration of the re-unification of North and South after the Civil War. It was expanded to commemorate all soldiers who have died in service to this country after World War I. One tradition is the planting of poppies in American graveyards for soldiers. That tradition started with a poem.

Lieutenant Colonel James McRae, a Canadian physician, wrote it upon the death of his friend Lieutenant Alexis Helmer on May 3, 1915. It's a poem, in other words, by someone who was there.  The torch he speaks of belongs to all of us, I am sure.


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.