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In Flanders Fields
John McCrae · 1915
The Dead Speak
1In Flanders fields the poppies blow
2Between the crosses, row on row,
3That mark our place; and in the sky
4The larks, still bravely singing, fly
5Scarce heard amid the guns below.
6We are the Dead. Short days ago
7We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
8Loved and were loved, and now we lie
9In Flanders fields.
The Charge
10Take up our quarrel with the foe:
11To you from failing hands we throw
12The torch; be yours to hold it high.
13If ye break faith with us who die
14We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
15In Flanders fields.