Remembrance

In Flanderes Field the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place, and in the sky
The lark, still bravely singing flies,
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 Field.

Take up the 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, tho' poppies grow
In Flanders Field.