|
|
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 field.
Lt.Col.John McCrae 1862-1918
|
|
