John McCrae

(30 November 1872 – 28 January 1918 / Guelph, Ontario)

John McCrae Poems

1. Upon Watts' Picture Sic Transit 1/3/2003
2. Then And Now 12/31/2002
3. The Unconquered Dead 12/31/2002
4. Unsolved 12/31/2002
5. The Warrior 12/31/2002
6. The Song Of The Derelict 12/31/2002
7. The Pilgrims 12/31/2002
8. The Oldest Drama 12/31/2002
9. Quebec 12/31/2002
10. The Night Cometh 12/31/2002
11. The Dead Master 12/31/2002
12. The Harvest Of The Sea 12/31/2002
13. The Dying Of Pere Pierre 12/31/2002
14. Equality 12/31/2002
15. Slumber Songs 12/31/2002
16. Penance 12/31/2002
17. Recompense 12/31/2002
18. Disarmament 12/31/2002
19. The Captain 12/31/2002
20. In Due Season 12/31/2002
21. The Shadow Of The Cross 12/31/2002
22. Mine Host 12/31/2002
23. Eventide 12/31/2002
24. Isandlwana 12/31/2002
25. A Song Of Comfort 12/31/2002
26. The Anxious Dead 12/31/2002
27. The Hope Of My Heart 12/31/2002
28. Anarchy 12/31/2002
29. In Flanders Field 1/3/2003
Best Poem of John McCrae

In Flanders Field

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.

Read the full of In Flanders Field


My lover died a century ago,
Her dear heart stricken by my sland'rous breath,
Wherefore the Gods forbade that I should know
The peace of death.

Men pass my grave, and say, "'Twere well to sleep,
Like such an one, amid the uncaring dead!"
How should they know the vigils that I keep,
The tears I shed?

[Report Error]