DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919 | 1918-01-28 Clipping: ""In Flanders Fields"" Page 1

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Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919

1918-01-28 Clipping: ""In Flanders Fields"" Page 1

IN FLANDERS FIELDS.

It is a remarkable fact that much poetry or real merit has been produced during the war period. The poetic offering  which by many has been pronounced superior to all others is that entitled "In Flanders Fields." It was written by Lieut. Col. John McCrae of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces who in civil life was a distinguished physician of Montreal, Canada. He died in Bolougne, France, January 28th, 1918, and in accordance with his expressed wish was buried with other fallen heroes in Flanders. The verses through which he touched so many hearts are as follows:

"In Flanders Fields the poppies grow
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 Field.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch. Be yours to lift it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies blow
In Flanders Fields"

Of the many answers to "In Flanders Fields" the one by Henry Polk Lowenstein, an attorney of Kansas City, Missouri, is well worthy of a position in the front rank. It reads:

"Sleep on, brave soldiers, sleep, sleep where the poppies grow,
Sleep on, brave soldiers, in your places, row on row.
The lark's still soaring in the sky,
Still bravely singing, soaring high,
Away above the cannon's roar,
Scarce heard amid the guns as yore, 
Before you slept in Flanders Fields.

The faith with you we've kept and battled with the foe;
On crimson fields by you we've slept where poppies blow,
The torch you flung to us we caught;
With blist'ring hands we've bravely fought
To hold it high to guard you thro' the Night, 
And at the Dawn to guide you to the Light,
When you awake from Flanders Fields."

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IN FLANDERS FIELDS. It is a remarkable fact that much poetry or real merit has been produced during the war period. The poetic offering which by many has been pronounced superior to all others is that entitled "In Flanders Fields." It was written by Lieut. Col. John McCrae of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces who in civil life was a distinguished physician of Montreal, Canada. He died in Bolougne, France, January 28th, 1918, and in accordance with his expressed wish was buried with other fallen heroes in Flanders. The verses through which he touched so many hearts are as follows: "In Flanders Fields the poppies grow 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 Field. Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you, from failing hands, we throw The torch. Be yours to lift it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies blow In Flanders Fields" Of the many answers to "In Flanders Fields" the one by Henry Polk Lowenstein, an attorney of Kansas City, Missouri, is well worthy of a position in the front rank. It reads: "Sleep on, brave soldiers, sleep, sleep where the poppies grow, Sleep on, brave soldiers, in your places, row on row. The lark's still soaring in the sky, Still bravely singing, soaring high, Away above the cannon's roar, Scarce heard amid the guns as yore, Before you slept in Flanders Fields. The faith with you we've kept and battled with the foe; On crimson fields by you we've slept where poppies blow, The torch you flung to us we caught; With blist'ring hands we've bravely fought To hold it high to guard you thro' the Night, And at the Dawn to guide you to the Light, When you awake from Flanders Fields."