Yesterday, when we raced in the Belgian classic Gent Wevelgem, the peloton crossed the killing fields of Flanders, where numerous cemeteries are left as somber reminders of the horrific past.
This poem was written in 1915 by a Canadian Army Doctor, Major John McCrae, after one of the many bloody battles of Ypres.
In Flanders Fields
“ 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.”
