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        John McCrae (1872-1918)

                  In Flanders Fields

    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.


This poem appeared in Punch magazine in 1915. It can be found in:
  • McCrae, John. In Flanders Fields and Other Poems. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.
  • Phillips, Louis, ed. The Random House Treasury of Best-Loved Poems (Second Edition). New York: Random House, 1995.