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
This is a poem that my mom, Alice Houston Rasmussen memorized as a school girl, and recited it all of her life. It was the most famous poem written for World War I.
As a young girl growing up in Price, UT, we would buy paper poppies
from veterans and wear them. The money was raised for the veterans who served in the wars. We probably celebrated the day more in the 50's and 60's than we do today. May we always remember the men and women who died fighting for the freedoms we enjoy in the United States of America.