In Flanders Field ⛓️

In Flanders Field is named after the war poem by the same name, wrote by Canadian Major John McCrae in the back of an ambulance, after seeing how quickly the poppies sprang up on his best friend, and other soldiers, graves. It is because of this poem that the poppy became what it is known as today; a remembrance to all soldiers, dead and live. I have copied the poem below for those unfamiliar with it to read, or for those who simply wish to read it again.

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 where 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' Field.