In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on rowThat mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns belowWe are the DeadShort days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow/Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders FieldsTake up our quarrel with the foeTo you from failing hands we throw The torchbe yours to hold it highIf ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep/though poppies growIn 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 among the guns below.

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.