In Flanders Field

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 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.

I finished stitching In Flanders Field. Thank you Torrie for all the information about the poem.

Now I am sewing the top and the bottom together. Tedious! I am 3/4 the way around. Then I'll go looking for a couple of buttons for the center.

I like how it turned out.

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