Just once in my life I would love to hear "In Flanders' Fields" read properly at a Remembrance Day service. No one knows how to properly read poetry aloud anymore, and the way we all learned the poem in school doesn't do McCrae half the justice he deserves.
Don't get me wrong, it's still lovely and I'd rather have it read aloud badly than not at all. But just one time, I'd love to hear it read like this, with the pauses in the right places instead of chopped up line by line:
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.