photo #7629118

 In Flanders Fields    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.