For other versions of this work, see In Flanders Fields.

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IN FLANDERS FIELDS

BY JOHN MC CRAE

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 those who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
⁠⁠In Flanders fields.

 

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