Memorial Day: "In Flanders Fields"

In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae - 1872-1918

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 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.

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