
In Flanders fields the poppies growBetween 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 dead; short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.The First World War produced more poems in the English language than possibly any other. This particular one was written by a Canadian, Dr John McCrae...