In Flanders Fields

Talking to one of my Foundation students, who is shortly emigrating to Canada, we took a moment to examine the dual French English language still prevalent in Canada. While looking carefully at a $10 note he had in his wallet, I noticed that in French and English text no larger than 5 point, the first verse of Canadian born John McCrae‘s poem ‘In Flanders Fields’, which really moved us. Here is the poem in its entirety:

In Flanders Fields

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…

John McCrae, 1872–1918

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