In Flanders Fields the poppies grow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place. While in the Sky The larks still bravely singing, fly Unheard, amid the guns below. We are the dead, Short days ago We lived, felt dawns, saw sunsets glow; Loved and were loved – but now we lie In Flanders Field
Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you from falling hands we throw The torch, Be yours to bear it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep tho’ poppies blow In Flanders Field.
Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteIn Flanders Fields
ReplyDeleteIn Flanders Fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place. While in the Sky
The larks still bravely singing, fly
Unheard, amid the guns below.
We are the dead, Short days ago
We lived, felt dawns, saw sunsets glow;
Loved and were loved – but now we lie
In Flanders Field
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from falling hands we throw
The torch, Be yours to bear it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep tho’ poppies blow
In Flanders Field.