PoemIn 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.John McCraeIn Flanders Fields · 1915★ 3.5
PoemTo 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.John McCraeIn Flanders Fields · 1915★ 1.8
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