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In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the
poppies blow Between the cross, row on
row, That mark our place: and
in the sky The larks, still bravely
singing fly Scare hear 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. -- John McCrae, 1872-1918-- |
