In Flanders Fields
Lt. Col. John McCrae

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 lives, 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.