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<h1>IN FLANDERS FIELDS</h1>
<h2> by John McCrae </h2>
<p>In Flanders fields the poppies grow<br/>
Between the crosses, row on row<br/>
That mark our place: and in the sky<br/>
The larks still bravely singing, fly<br/>
Scarce heard amid the guns below.<br/>
<br/>
We are the Dead. Short days ago<br/>
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,<br/>
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie<br/>
In Flanders fields.<br/>
<br/>
Take up our quarrel with the foe:<br/>
To you from failing hands we throw<br/>
The Torch: be yours to hold it high!<br/>
If ye break faith with us who die<br/>
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow<br/>
In Flanders fields.<br/>
<br/>
John McCrae<br/></p>
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