Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row

That make 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.

Colonel John McCrae

We Shall Keep the Faith

Oh! You who sleep in Flanders Fields,

Sleep sweet – to rise anew!

We caught the torch you threw

And holding high, we keep the Faith

With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led;

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies,

But lends a luster to the red

Of the flower that blooms above the dead

In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red

We wear in honor of our dead.

Fear not that ye have died for naught;

We’ll teach the lesson that ye have wrought

In Flanders Fields.

Moina Michael

November 1918

A POPPY SPEAKS

In Flanders Field the poppies bloom

Among the crosses lined in rows,

A blanket of love from God above

To cover the graves of our G.I. Joes.

But her in America, lest we forget,

Many other poppies bloom,

Made by a Vet confined to a chair

Or a lonely hospital room.

I am just a simple little flower

Made of wire and paper of crepe,

But in the hands of a disabled veteran

I’m molded gently into shape.

Each year the American veteran

Honors those who have gone before

With a special salute to their memory

And the sound of Taps once more.

But they will also never forget

Those who still the price must pay,

And each Vet will wear a poppy

In their honor on Poppy Day.

Won’t you take the time to wear me,

And donate a coin or two,

To show your love and appreciation

For all they have given for you.

Milford Lansberry