In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae (1872–1918)
Reads in about 1 minute15 linesNon-religious
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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.
About this text
- Poet
- John McCrae, 1872–1918
- Printing used
- In Flanders Fields and Other Poems (1919) (first published 1915, in Punch)
- First published
- 1915
- Public domain
- This printing 1919, before 1931
- Often chosen
- for a man, non-religious, for a veteran, short