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.
In a few hours it will be the 11th of November.
On the 11th minnit of the 11th hour the big guns of the great war fell silent and the war to end all wars ended.
We have faught more wars.
And never must not forget, for dead will not rest where ever they lay.
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.
In a few hours it will be the 11th of November.
On the 11th minnit of the 11th hour the big guns of the great war fell silent and the war to end all wars ended.
We have faught more wars.
And never must not forget, for dead will not rest where ever they lay.