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 your 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.
*Maj. John McCrae of the Canadian Army is best know for his famous war poem "In Flanders Fields," written following the death of a friend during the 1915 battle in the Yspres salient. McCrae composed the poem while sitting in the back of an ambulance, looking out on a nearby cemetery filled with wild poppies.