In Flanders Fields
From Metapedia
In Flanders Fields is one of the most famous poems about World War I, and has been called "The most popular poem" produced by the war. It is written in the form of a French rondeau. It was written by Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae on May 3, 1915, after he witnessed the gruesome death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, the day before. The poem was first published on December 7, that year in Punch magazine.
The poppies referred to in the poem grew in profusion in Flanders (Belgium) where war casualties had been buried and thus became a symbol of Remembrance Day. The poem is part of Remembrance Day solemnities in Allied countries which contributed troops to WWI, particularly in countries of the British Empire which did so.
An official adaptation into French, used by the Canadian government in Remembrance Day ceremonies, was written by Jean Pariseau and is entitled Au champ d'honneur.
The poem has achieved near-mythical status in contemporary Canada and is one of the nation's most prominent symbols. Most Remembrance Day ceremonies will feature a reading of the poem in some form, and many Canadian schoolchildren memorize the verse.
A portion of the poem is now printed on Canadian $10 notes, where it spawned a false rumour that the poem had been misprinted, resulting from popular confusion between the first line's "blow" and the penultimate line's "grow". The lines "To you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high" have been adopted as the motto of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team.
Critic Paul Fussell, in The Great War and Modern Memory, points out the sharp distinction between the pastoral, sacrificial tone of the poem's first nine lines and the "recruiting-poster rhetoric" of the poem's third stanza; he argues that, appearing in 1915, the poem would serve to denigrate any negotiated peace that would end the war, and calls these lines "a propaganda argument," saying "words like vicious and stupid would not seem to go too far."
[edit] Poem
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.
