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 sunsets glow

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

in Flanders fields

Take up our quarrel with the foes

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch be yours to hold it high

If you break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Fladers fields.

John McCrae May 1915

NO MORE WAR