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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 … - John McCrae
" "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 falling 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.
English
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About John McCrae
Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae, MD (30 November 1872 – 28 January 1918) was a Canadian poet, physician, author, artist and soldier during World War I. He is famous for writing the war memorial poem "In Flanders Fields".
Biography information from Wikiquote
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Additional quotes by John McCrae
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. The
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Premium members can get their quote collection automatically imported into their Quotewise collections.
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
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