In Flanders' Fields
The poppies blow
Between the Crosses
Row on Row
That mark our place
And in the Sky
The lark still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amidst
the guns below
We are the Dead,
Short days ago
We lived watched dawn
Saw sunset glow
Lived and were loved
and now we lie
In Flanders' fields
Take up the Quarrel
With the foe
To you with failing
Hands we throw
The torch be yours
To hold it high
If ye break faith
with those who die
We shall not rest
Though poppies grow
In Flanders' fields.
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