My all time favorite poem: so few words---so much said!!!!

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.

atlarge,

I probably should Google the poem to be sure, but here's what I think is the case.

Our class memorized and recited this poem when I was in the fourth grade, in 1954. We did it in conjunction with Armistice Day (November 11). I believe that the poem was a tribute to American soldiers who died in France during World War I, and were buried in Flanders.

It's a beautiful tribute to men who gave their all.

Tom in TN

Poem was written by a Canadian soldier named John McRae as a tribute to all the soldiers who had lost their lives during WW1. He wrote it in 1916 after the death of his best friend. Phil

Forgot to say, it is a very well known poem and echoes the sentiments of many people all over the world. Its good to know that schoolchildren were taught this poem.

Girl in my class in high school read that poem to the assembly every veterans day. After graduation she became a nun.

A lot of the younger folks on this forum probably
won't remember "Poppy Day". I think the event was
sponsored by the American Legion on November 11.
People--kids, I think--were out on the street
selling paper and wire "poppies" that the buyers
wore in their lapels for the rest of the day.
Proceeds went to vets' causes.

John McRae's great nephew Bob, was my Veterinarian for many years. Small world eh ?

"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."

When it comes to poems of few words I don't believe there are any shorter than Carl Sandberg's poem about a cat. Just one word. "Scat"

"If" we're sending up inspiring wisdom in the
form of poetry, we might as well add this one by
Rudyard Kipling to the heap:

IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt
you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too
wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your
master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your
aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to,
broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out
tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.

As Phil Scarborough wrote the poem was written by John McRay, who was a doctor with the Canadian army In 1916 who himself was killed shortly after. The Canadian Legion has the copy rights to the poppy, They are put out on display about one week before rememberance day, Nov., 11 they are free, how ever a donation is requested. Most Canadians wear them for this week. At a veterans funeral if a Legion service is asked for by the family, the Legion member all ware a poppy, and remove it and place it in the coffin.
At rememberance day services and at funerals the statment is made " we will remember them"

Memorized that poem in Freshman English class. I can only remember the first five lines now, but it's been over 50 years. Good poem! They still do the poppy sales in this area.

Gene, thank you for reminding me of this one. I studied early 20th century poetry in school when I was 15years old, but I had forgotten this one. Phil

I remember a poem from elementary school, or at
least part of it. If I remember right it was about
war and ended something like "I am the grass. Let me
work"