top of page

Remembering Flanders Fields* 


Forget the dead, they cannot see;
their eyes, the hollow prophecy
of peace. We swore a bloody vow
that all good men could not allow
an equal to that travesty.

Though poppies spread their bounty, free
on winds that blew through history,
the mighty oaks, from root to bough
forget the dead.

What ill-bred aristocracy
and mummers of democracy
have sent the fields beneath the plough
in grave betrayal? We should bow
in humble gratitude, lest we
forget the dead.

*After In Flanders Fields by Lt. Col. John McRae


bottom of page