Oh! You who sleep in Flanders' fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew,
We caught the torch you threw,
And holding high we kept
The faith with those who died.
We cherish too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led.
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a luster to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders' fields.
And now the torch and poppy red
Wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders' fields.
