In Flanders field, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place and in the sky
The larks still bracely 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! In Flanders fields!
and now we lie in Flanders fields
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failng hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break fatih with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. In Flanders fields
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. In Flanders fields.