Row on row the crosses stand;
The breeze blown poppies nod
Approval of the gallant band
Asleep beneath the sod,
In Flanders Fields.

No lark is nigh:
Aloft, a plane (man's eagle of the sky)
Is strewing wreaths on those who lie
In Flanders Fields.

No resting soul need wake to weep
For faith mistrusted to our keep:
His heritage is peaceful sleep—
In Flanders Fields.