Memorial Day

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.

—JOHN D. MCCRAE, A CANADIAN DOCTOR WHO SERVED AS A CAPTAIN DURING WORLD WAR I