https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7kd2pFQjP4
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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