In Flander's Fields

In Flander's 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 Flander's 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,

tho poppies grow in Flander's fields.

Liet. -Col. John McCrae