Written by the Menin Gate.
The fields of Flanders are quiet and calm,
No trenches scar the land,
No hollow-eyed men with ghostly faces,
No bombs, no shells, no no-mans land,
Gone is the wire which ripped the flesh,
No yellow gas or mortar burst,
No soldiers attacking the enemy line,
No screams, no shouts, no human curse,
The poppies now grow in gay abandon,
The grass grows Green with nature's care,
White crosses mark the thousands fallen,
At peace with God, the brave lay there.