<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">In Flanders Fields</h1><p class="inline-note" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"> (Reprinted by the special permission of the proprietors of <em>Punch</em>.)</p><div class="stanza"><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">In</span> Flanders fields the poppies blow</p><p class="line">Between the crosses, row on row,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">That mark our place, and in the sky,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">The larks, still bravely singing, fly,</p><p class="line">Scarce heard amid the guns below.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">We are the dead; short days ago</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,</p><p class="line">Loved and were loved, and now we lie</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:4%">In Flanders fields.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Take up our quarrel with the foe!</p><p class="line">To you from failing hands we throw</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">The torch; be yours to hold it high!</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">If ye break faith with us who die</p><p class="line">We shall not sleep, though poppies grow</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:4%">In Flanders fields.</p></div><p class="byline">-- John McRae.</p></body></html> · Great War