In Flander's 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 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
While poppies grow in Flander's field
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae
