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
yours
torch
still
hands
sunset
sleep
fields
shall
failing
crosses
below
flanders
place
between
though
bravely
throw
break
heard
poppies
larks
lived
faith
loved
quarrel
short
scarce
singing
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