In Flanders Fields
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.
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.
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.
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.
ce superbe poème, écrit dans les terres de Flandres pendant la Grande guerre par le médecin militaire John McCrae, inhumé au cimetière britannique de Wimereux, est devenu un double symbole pour nos compatriotes britanniques: l'évocation juste des sacrifices et le choix de l'emblème de Poppy, le coquelicot, pour les anciens combattants. Si vous ne saviez pas pourquoi les couronnes anglaises et les petites croix laissées par les visiteurs en portent, voici donc l'explication
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