In Flanders fields the poppies blow <br />Between the crosses, row on row, <br /> That mark our place; and in the sky <br /> The larks, still bravely singing, fly <br />Scarce heard amid the guns below. <br /> <br />We are the Dead. Short days ago <br />We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, <br /> Loved and were loved, and now we lie, <br /> In Flanders fields. <br /> <br />Take up our quarrel with the foe: <br />To you from failing hands we throw <br /> The torch; be yours to hold it high. <br /> If ye break faith with us who die <br />We shall not sleep, though poppies grow <br /> In Flanders fields.<br /><br />John McCrae<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-flanders-fields/
