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Detail Info
Object ID
1986.079.001
Access Number
1986.079
Subjects
Object Name
Poem
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FEATURE INFO
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Archive
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CANADA & CANADIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
CANADA ET FORCE EXPÉDITIONNAIRE CANADIENNE
In Flanders Fields
Poem, "In Flanders Fields" - A good print with a pictorial background, WW I. This poem is a memento of Doug Lunn's father. This poem was once hung by the Vimy Cross in the Museum.
"In Flanders Fields" is a war poem in the form of a rondeau, written during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae (service file attached). He was inspired to write it on May 3, 1915, after presiding over the funeral of friend and fellow soldier Lt Alexis Helmer (attestation record attached), who died in the Second Battle of Ypres. According to legend, fellow soldiers retrieved the poem after McCrae, initially dissatisfied with his work, discarded it. "In Flanders Fields" was first published on December 8 1915 in the London-based magazine Punch.
It is one of the most popular and most quoted poems from the war. As a result of its immediate popularity, parts of the poem were used in propaganda efforts and appeals to recruit soldiers and raise money selling war bonds. Its references to the red poppies that grew over the graves of fallen soldiers resulted in the remembrance poppy becoming one of the world's most recognized memorial symbols for soldiers who have died in conflict. The poem and poppy are prominent Remembrance Day symbols throughout the Commonwealth of Nations, particularly in Canada, where "In Flanders Fields" is one of the nation's best-known literary works. The poem also has wide exposure in the United States, where it is associated with Veterans Day.
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.

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