Why was poetry important?
In Flanders Field by John McCrae
During the war the men had very few ways to express
The most famous poem was written by a Canadian doctor
their feelings about what life was like that could be
called John McCrae. He treated thousands of soldiers a
recorded and sent home. Many wrote letters about their
week and saw many horrific things, including death,
experiences but some of the most famous and well-
conditions and injuries. He wrote the poem In Flanders
remembered stories of what life was like at war came
Fields after treating one soldier who had been through
from poems that the men wrote in their spare time.
one example of horrible conditions and injuries.
These poems serve as reminders to us of the losses of
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
war but also the horrific conditions that men were
forced to live in. By reading these poems, we can learn
what life was like and how the men felt about the war.
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.
The Soldier by Rupert Brooke
This poem was written by a journalist called Rupert
Brooke. It is a very famous poem and he wrote it to
appear in the Times newspaper, not long before he died
during the war. He wrote it based on his experiences of
speaking to soldiers and hearing the stories of soldiers
who lost their lives during the war.
It is written from the viewpoint of a soldier who has
died, thinking about the war and how he felt about it.
IF I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.And think, this
heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Poetry in World War
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