That day of battle in the dusty heat
We lay and heard the bullets swish and sing
Like scythes amid the over-ripened wheat,
And we the harvest of their garnering.

— John McCrae In Flanders Fields and Other Poems (1919)

More quotes by John McCrae

In Flanders Fields and Other Poems (1919)

In Flanders Fields and Other Poems (1919)

In Flanders Fields and Other Poems (1919)

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