In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Field

 

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 throuw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, through the poppies grouw

In Flanders fields.

 

 

Done