To Flanders fields, someday I'll go
To see those crosses, row on row,
That mark the place beneath the sky
Where larks still sing and bravely fly,
Their songs now heard. No guns below.

They are the dead. Long years ago
They lived, felt dawn, saw sunset's glow,
Loved and were loved, and now they lie
In Flanders fields.

Their comrades overcame the foe:
And so now all the world does know
The torch those warriors once held high
Was passed, and though they had to die
They sleep content, where poppies grow,
In Flanders fields.