The Background

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 the honor of the dead
Fear not that ye have died for nought:
We’ve learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders’ fields.