1915 in poetry

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.

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.And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

Contents to Some Imagist Poets anthology, the first of three books with the same title published in the next two years (includes English and American poets): See also "Some Imagist Poets" subsection, above Death years link to the corresponding "[year] in poetry" article: Birth years link to the corresponding "[year] in poetry" article: see also "Poets and World War I" in the "Events" section and Rudyard Kipling poem "My Boy Jack", above