"In Flanders' fields the poppies grow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, While in the sky the larks, Still bravely singing, Fly unheard amid the guns. We are the Dead-- Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow, Loved and were loved--and now we lie In Flanders' fields---- Take up our quarrel with the foe. To you from failing hands we throw The torch--be yours to bear it high-- If ye break faith with us who die, We shall not sleep though poppies grow In Flanders' fields." BUT A SHORT TIME TO LIVE _By Leslie Coulson, killed in action_ Our little hour--how swift it flies When poppies flare and lilies smile; How soon the fleeting minute dies, Leaving us but a little while To dream our dream, to sing our song To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower, The Gods--they do not give us long-- One little hour. Our little hour--how short it is When Love with dew-eyed loveliness Raises her lips for ours to kiss And dies within our first caress. Youth flickers out like windblown flame, Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour, For Time and Death, relentless, claim One little hour. Our little hour,--how short a time To wage our wars, to fan our fates, To take our fill of armored crime, To troop our banner, storm the gates. Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red, Blind in our puny reign of power, Do we forget how soon is sped One little hour? Our little hour--how soon it dies; How short a time to tell our beads, To chant our feeble Litanies, To think sweet thoughts, to do good deeds, The altar lights grow pale and dim, The bells hang silent in the tower, So passes with the dying hymn, Our little hour. BUT A SHORT TIME TO LIVE _By Leslie Coulson, killed in action_ Our little hour--how swift it flies When poppies flare and lilies smile; How soon the fleeting minute dies, Leaving us but a little while To dream our dream, to sing our song To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower, The Gods--they do not give us long-- One little hour. Our little hour--how short it is When Love with dew-eyed loveliness Raises her lips for ours to kiss And dies within our first caress. Youth flickers out like windblown flame, Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour, For Time and Death, relentless, claim One little hour. Our little hour,--how short a time To wage our wars, to fan our fates, To take our fill of armored crime, To troop our banner, storm the gates. Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red, Blind in our puny reign of power, Do we forget how soon is sped One little hour?