[Precioussss]

In Flanders Fields
By John McCrae
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

They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

[ November 10, 2002: Message edited by: Precioussss ]