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Poetry of Direct Personal Experience
Our Collection of Aviation and Military Poetry

America's Answer To In Flanders Fields
RW Lilliard

Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders’ dead.

The fight that ye so bravely led

We’ve taken up. And we will keep

True faith with you who lie asleep

With a cross to mark his bed,

In Flanders’ fields.

Fear not that ye have died for naught.

The torch ye threw to us we caught.

Ten million hands will hold it high,

And Freedom’s light shall never die!

We’ve learned the lesson that ye taught

In Flanders’ fields.

Reply To In Flanders Fields
JA Armstrong

In Flanders’ fields the cannons 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

Is redder than the poppy bloom,

In Flanders’ fields.

Sleep on, ye brave! The shrieking shell,

The quaking trench, the startling 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,

With burning heart and oath we swear

To keep the faith, to fight it through,

To crush the foe, or sleep with you,

In Flanders’ fields.

Reply To In Flanders Fields
John Mitchell

Oh! sleep in peace where poppies grow;

The torch your falling hands let go

Was caught by us, again held high,

A beacon light in Flanders’ sky

That dims the stars to those below.

Your are our dead, you held the foe

And ere the poppies cease to blow,

We’ll prove our faith in you who lie

In Flanders’ fields.

Oh! rest in peace, we quickly go

To you who bravely died, and know

In other fields was heard the cry,

For freedom’s cause, of you who lie,

So still asleep where poppies grow,

In Flanders’ fields.

As in rumbling sound, to and fro,

The lightning flashes, sky aglow,

The mighty hosts appear, and high

Above the din of battle cry,

Scarce heard amidst the guns below,

Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,

And guard the place where poppies grow.

Oh! sleep in peace, all you who lie

In Flanders’ fields.

And still the poppies gently blow,

Between the crosses, row on row.

The larks, still bravely soaring high,

Are singing now their lullaby

To you who sleep where poppies grow

In Flanders’ fields.

Pont de nieppe communal cemetery flanders belgium

SY 2022-11-08

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 • Last Modified: 08 November 2022, 14:47