poem
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.
Kia Ora Caleb,
ReplyDeleteWell done on completing this bonus activity, particularly one which involved a poem!
Personally I love poetry, how do you feel about it?
In regards to this poem, I too feel sad for the soldiers that went off to war. The last paragraph is melancholic; it sounds as though the narrator expects us to carry on with this torch, but what does the torch symbolize exactly?
I guess that's the beautiful thing about poetry— the freedom of reflexivity!
Nice work e hoa,
Jordan.
Hi Jordan
DeleteI think poems are hard.
Thanks
Caleb I