National Poetry Month: John McCrea

This is one of my father's favorite poems. It was written by John McCrea while he fought during World War I. He didn't live to see the end of the confict.
"In Flanders Feild"

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.

I'll be doing more poetry postings soon! Requests are welcome. I'm on a bit of a British Modernist kick right now, I'm taking a class on that era.