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.

*****

The trouble for me with this Canadian war poem is that it (correctly) has no suggestion of its First World War conflict being in any way just or having a moral underpinning. That war was merely cousins who ruled empires jockeying for power. And the poem has no more uplifting exhortation than “Take up our quarrel with the foe”. Whoop-di-doo. My foolish Australian grandfather was killed in it in September 1914.

Wikipedia says: “Despite its fame, “In Flanders Fields” is often ignored by academics teaching and discussing Canadian literature. The poem is sometimes viewed as an anachronism; it spoke of glory and honour in a war that has since become synonymous with the futility of trench warfare and the slaughter produced by 20th-century weaponry.”

Happy Remembrance Day? Enjoy the good weather and love life – you only live once, possibly!