[Note on text: Italicized stanzas are indented 5 spaces. Italicized words or phrases are capitalized. Some slight errors have been corrected.]
John McCrae, physician, soldier, and poet, died in France a Lieutenant-Colonel with the Canadian forces.
The poem which gives this collection of his lovely verse its name has been extensively reprinted, and received with unusual enthusiasm.
The volume contains, as well, a striking essay in character by his friend, Sir Andrew Macphail.
{Although the poem itself is included shortly, this next section is included for completeness, and to show John McCrae’s punctuation—also to show that I’m not the only one who forgets lines.—A. L.}
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies growBetween the crosses, row on rowThat mark our place: and in the skyThe larks still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe Torch: be yours to hold it high!If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies growIn Flanders fields.
From a Facsimile of an autograph copy of the poem “In Flanders Fields”
This was probably written from memory as “grow” is used in place of “blow” in the first line.
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoWe 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 throwThe torch; be yours to hold it high.If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies growIn Flanders fields.