The Larks, Still Bravely Singing, Fly Scarce

In Flanders Fields The Poppies Blow.

Like Restless Birds, The Breath Of Coming Rain Creeps, Lilac-laden, Up The Village Street

The Larks, Still Bravely Singing, Fly Scarce Heard Amid The Guns Below

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.

We Lived, Felt Dawn, Saw Sunset Glow, Loved And Were Loved, And Now We Lie In Flanders Fields.