In Flanders Fields

~ John McCrae ~

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.

---

Flanders is a region on the coast of Europe, across from the English Channel, partly in France and partly in Belguim. Thousands of soldiers who died fighting in World War I are buried there.