Flanders Fields in Full

This is not a new post, just a continuation of the first. But going on with my book, my heart is so full. Lying alone here, late at night, reading about Ypres, it's a lot.

So, in deference to everything I want to say and won't be able to say well, I'll put the poem here.

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,
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 hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

—By John McCrae

Edit: My favourite parts are the first few verses. The poem is better without the last verse.