“IN FLANDERS FIELDS.”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17350, 15 May 1924, Page 5

“IN FLANDERS FIELDS.”

INSPIRED WAR POEM. Two poems have by common consent been accorded pre-eminence among the verse inspired by this war (says the “New York Tribune”). These are “ The Soldier,” the unforgettable tribute to his native England, by Rupert Brooke, who died at Gallipoli, and “l Have a Rendezvous with Death,’ by Alan Seeger, which rendezvous the young . American unflinchingly. kept on a battlefield of France. There is a third poem, with which our readers are familiar, worthy to rank with these two, a poem that embodied in verse the white'hot ideals of a man with whom literature was not a vocation, but an avocation. “In I landers Fields ” came frpm the pen of Lieutenant-Colonel John M C rae. a Canadian physician of. distinction. The poem was written in a hospital close behind the front- in the, little leisure that was his between the demands o? bis wounded patients. He died ■in his own hospital, a victim cf pneumonia. “In Flanders Fields reprinted in these columus shortly after irs first, publication in England. There are still constant requests for its text, and we give its brief stanzas again:— In Flander* field* the poppies .Between tlie crosses, row on row That, mark our place: while m the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Unheard amid the guu«. We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt, dawn, saw sunsets glow, Loved and were loved, and no« «e no .Tn Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe. To you from falling, hands we throw . The torch. Be yours to bear.it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies blow In Flanders fields. The poet left no hint as to the source of his inspiration, but there i.> little, doubt that he found it in the legend that the , poppies of Flanders bloom more crimson and plentiful when they spring above the graves of fallen soldiers. Mention has been made again and again in this war of the poppies that have ensanguined the fields of Flanders after they have known the scarlet dye of human blood. Correspondents who commented on the profusion with which this flower, with its suggestive hue. covered the ground were only repeating au observation made frequently in the centuries that have seen this region the battlefield of Europe. As far back as the battle of Landen. fought between the English and French in 1693. the phenomenon was noted. An Englishman, visiting the battlefield the following summer, described in a letter home the spreading waves of poppies on the field that was yet strewn with the wreckage of battle. Macaulay, writing in his history of that historic struggle, made the letter the basis fof the following para graph: “ The next summer the soil, fertilised with 20.000 corpses, broke forth into millions oi poppies. The traveller who. on the road from Saint Tron to Tirlemont, saw that vast field o e rich starlet spreading from Lande-i to Neerwinder could hardly help fancying that the figurative prediction of the Hebrew prophet was literally accomplished. that the earth was discharging her blood and refusing to cover the slain.” After AVaterloo tfce poppies again spread their crimson coverlet above the dead. The blossoms, marked in thp centre with the sign of the cross, which legend symbolises the Wood which dripped into them from the pierced feet of Jesus, have had much cause since 1914 tc b %, ow between those other crosses ‘ row on row.” War takes our best.it has been so often said : and the pity is that those who first- lifted the torch could not live to see its light beginning to shine with a surer radiance. Let it be hoped that it is given to the poet soldier surgeon and those whj sleep with him under the crosses, rude wooden and velvet petalled, to know that the popnies have not bloomed in vain in Flanders fields. In connection with the foregoing we publish the following fine poems written in America by wav of “ answer ** to Colonel M’Crae’s original verses: (By R. W. IJLLARD.) (Written after tfie death of LieutenantColonel M'Crae. and printed in the New A r ork “ Evening Post.") Rest yo in peace, ye Flanders, dead. The fight that ye so bravciy led We've taken up. And we will keep True faith with you who lip asleep With each a cross - to mark his bed, And poppies blowing overhead. Where once his own life blood ran red, So let your rest be sweet and deep In Flanders fields. Fc-ar not that ye have died for naught The torch ye threw to us we caught. Ten million hands will hold it hi eh. And Freedom's light shall never die! We’ve iearned the lesson that ye taught In Flanders fields. (By C. B. GALBREATH. Columbus, Ohio ) To Flanders fields the cannon boom. And fitful flashes light the gloom. While up above, like eagles fly The fierce destroyers of the sky: With stains the earth wherein you lie 1 i redder than the poppy bloom Id Flanders fields. Sleep on. ye brave. The shrieking shell. Tho quaking trench, the startled yell, The fury of the battle hell Shall wake you not. for all is well. Sleep peacefully, for all is well. Your flaming torch aloft we bear. It ith burning heart an oat-h we swear To keep the faith, to fight it through, To crush the foe or sleep with you In Flanders fields.