In Flanders Fieldsxml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
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.
Compton's says this about Flanders Field:
"Flanders Field, a U.S. military cemetery at Waregem, Belgium; men buried there died in World War I. The famous poem of World War I 'In Flanders Fields' (1919) was written by a Montreal doctor, Lieut. Col. John McCrae. McCrae, John (1872-1918), Canadian physician, soldier, and poet, born in Guelph, Ont.; served in Boer War and World War I ('In Flanders Fields'). Flanders Field Cemetery is at Waregem in Belgium."
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