In Flanders Fields, by Lieut. Col. John McRae

In Flanders Fields
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 amidst 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 falling 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

America's Answer by R. W. Lillard
Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead
The fight that ye so bravely led
We've taken up. And we will keep
True faith with yo how lie asleep
With each a cross to mark his bed,
And poppies blowing overhead
Where once his own life blood ran red
So let your rest be sweet and deep
In Flanders fields.
Fear not that ye have died for naught
The torch ye threw to us we caught
Ten million hands will hold it high
And Freedom's light shall never die!
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders fields.