John Mccrae Sky Poems

  • 1.
    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
    ...
  • 2.
    He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days,
    But with the night his little lamp-lit room
    Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze
    Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom
    ...
  • 3.
    An uphill path, sun-gleams between the showers,
    Where every beam that broke the leaden sky
    Lit other hills with fairer ways than ours;
    Some clustered graves where half our memories lie;
    ...
  • 4.
    “. . . with two other priests; the same night he died,
    and was buried by the shores of the lake that bears his name.”
    Chronicle.

    ...
  • 5.
    O guns, fall silent till the dead men hear
    Above their heads the legions pressing on:
    (These fought their fight in time of bitter fear,
    And died not knowing how the day had gone.)
    ...
  • 6.
    Scarlet coats, and crash o' the band,
    The grey of a pauper's gown,
    A soldier's grave in Zululand,
    And a woman in Brecon Town.
    ...
  • 7.
    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
    ...
  • 8.
    The day is past and the toilers cease;
    The land grows dim 'mid the shadows grey,
    And hearts are glad, for the dark brings peace
    At the close of day.
    ...
  • 9.
    “Sleep, weary ones, while ye may-
    Sleep, oh, sleep!”
    Eugene Field.

    ...
Total 9 Sky Poems by John Mccrae

Top 10 most used topics by John Mccrae

Night 15 Light 13 Earth 12 Life 12 Sky 9 Sleep 8 Song 8 Long 8 God 8 Death 7

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jorja: i like this poem

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Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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