Lest WE Forget

                               

                                          In 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 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.

                                       ~  John McCrae, 1915 ~