Monday, May 28, 2007

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

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

Here's another Memorial Day poem--probably the most famous and often read. It tells about the utter waste war seems to be from one perspective, and yet acknowledges that it has to go on sometimes. It's hard to do both, even though many people have these conflicting emotions about it.

On a happier note, it's my birthday, so everybody sing happy birthday to me!

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