In Flanders Fields 
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) 
 
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.


We Shall Keep the Faith [The reply]
Moina Michael (August 15, 1869-May 10, 1944)

Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
 Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
 We caught the torch you threw
 And holding high, we keep the Faith
 With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red
 That grows on fields where valor led;
 It seems to signal to the skies
 That blood of heroes never dies,
 But lends a lustre to the red
 Of the flower that blooms above the dead
 In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red
 We wear in honor of our dead.
 Fear not that ye have died for naught;
 We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
 In Flanders Fields.
 In Flanders Fields we fought

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