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
T His poem was written by Lieut. Col. John McCrae of the Canadian expeditionary forces. It has been declared the greatest poem of the war. Colonel McCrae died at Boulogne, France, January 28, 1918:
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 fields.
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, tho poppies blow
On Flanders fields.
AN ANSWER.
This reply to the poem was written by C.B. Galbreath, Columbus, Ohio, who is Ohio state librarian:
In Flanders fields the cannon boom
And fitful flashes light the gloom,
While up above, like eagles fly,
The fierce destroyers of the sky;
With stains the earth wherein you lie
Is redder than the poppy bloom,
In Flanders fields.
Sleep on, ye brave. The shrieking shell,
The quaking trench, the startled yell,
The fury of the battle hell
Shall wake you not, for all is well,
Sleep peacefully, for all is well.
Your flaming torch aloft we bear,
With burning heart an oath we swear
To keep the faith, to fight it thru,
To crush the foe or sleep with you
In Flanders fields.
IT'S SIXTEEN TO ONE ANYWAY.
There is always some Moses to lead the farmer out of the wilderness to the Promised Land. Last time it was 16 to 1, and now its $16 to one. -- Austin Herald.
Anyone who has been stung $16 worth can understand the above quite fully.--Albert Lee Tribune.

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IN FLANDERS FIELDS T His poem was written by Lieut. Col. John McCrae of the Canadian expeditionary forces. It has been declared the greatest poem of the war. Colonel McCrae died at Boulogne, France, January 28, 1918: 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 fields. 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, tho poppies blow On Flanders fields. AN ANSWER. This reply to the poem was written by C.B. Galbreath, Columbus, Ohio, who is Ohio state librarian: In Flanders fields the cannon boom And fitful flashes light the gloom, While up above, like eagles fly, The fierce destroyers of the sky; With stains the earth wherein you lie Is redder than the poppy bloom, In Flanders fields. Sleep on, ye brave. The shrieking shell, The quaking trench, the startled yell, The fury of the battle hell Shall wake you not, for all is well, Sleep peacefully, for all is well. Your flaming torch aloft we bear, With burning heart an oath we swear To keep the faith, to fight it thru, To crush the foe or sleep with you In Flanders fields. IT'S SIXTEEN TO ONE ANYWAY. There is always some Moses to lead the farmer out of the wilderness to the Promised Land. Last time it was 16 to 1, and now its $16 to one. -- Austin Herald. Anyone who has been stung $16 worth can understand the above quite fully.--Albert Lee Tribune.