Remembering them through art and literature.

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.

In Flanders Fields

by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, 1915

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