Flanders field

muveputu's version from 2016-01-14 21:53


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.