In Flanders Fields the poppies grow between the crosses row on row.that mark our place that mark our place in the sky.The birds still bravely singing ,fly scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead shot days ago we lived felt dawn saw sunset glow love 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 through poppies grow In Flanders fields. By John McCrae
Posted on: Fri, 29 Nov 2013 13:27:17 +0000
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