Memorial Day - Flanders Field

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.

By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

McCrae wrote this poem in 1915, the day after his friend was killed in battle. He looked at his friend's grave as he composed the poem during the second battle of Ypres, Belgium.

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I remember learning this poem in high school, probably in Miss Long's class. My heart and mind always return to it when I see poppies being sold by veteran's groups - or see the flowers growing in the wild. I wonder if Miss Long pointed out that many of our grandfathers probably fought in World War I, as both ours did? I don't recall Mom and Dad ever talking about their fathers' service in World War I. I don’t remember asking Grandpa or Poppie about it. Maybe they told us stories and I wasn't listening.  Now that I'm paying attention, I wish I'd asked more questions – or listened – or both.

Harry Floyd & Caryl Holton served in France in World War I