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 among the guns below. John McCrae blowbravelycrosse Change image and share on social
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from falling hands we throw. John McCrae fallfoehand Change image and share on social
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow: In Flanders fields. John McCrae fieldflandersgrow Change image and share on social
