Memorial Day: Remembering Our Departed Heroes

Dear Members, Alumni, and Friends of the James Scholar Advisory & Leadership Team –

In this edition of Quotemail, we remember all our departed heroes, from many times and climes, those whom we have known and loved, and those whom we have never had the honor to know personally but to whom we are nonetheless deeply grateful for their service and sacrifice.

The observance of Memorial Day (originally known as Decoration Day) began in the aftermath of the American Civil War. It was first widely observed in both North and South during May 1867, to honor all the soldiers who had died in battle (over 600,000 people died in the Civil War, making it the bloodiest war in American history). Here are a few poems and reflections to remind us of all the heroes who have died in defense of our country – not only during the Civil War, but also before and after.

“The Blue and the Gray” (1867)

By Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

By the flow of the inland river,

    Whence the fleets of iron have fled,

Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

    Asleep are the ranks of the dead:

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day;

        Under the one, the Blue,

            Under the other, the Gray

These in the robings of glory,

    Those in the gloom of defeat,

All with the battle-blood gory,

    In the dusk of eternity meet:

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day

        Under the laurel, the Blue,

            Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours

    The desolate mourners go,

Lovingly laden with flowers

    Alike for the friend and the foe;

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day;

        Under the roses, the Blue,

            Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,

    The morning sun-rays fall,

With a touch impartially tender,

    On the blossoms blooming for all:

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day;

        Broidered with gold, the Blue,

            Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,

    On forest and field of grain,

With an equal murmur falleth

    The cooling drip of the rain:

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day,

        Wet with the rain, the Blue

            Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

    The generous deed was done,

In the storm of the years that are fading

    No braver battle was won:

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day;

        Under the blossoms, the Blue,

            Under the garlands, the Gray

No more shall the war cry sever,

    Or the winding rivers be red;

They banish our anger forever

    When they laurel the graves of our dead!

        Under the sod and the dew,

            Waiting the judgment-day,

        Love and tears for the Blue,

            Tears and love for the Gray.

“In Great Deeds” by Joshua Chamberlain (1828-1914, Union General from Maine)

       In great deeds, something abides. On great fields, something stays. Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger, to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls. … Generations that know us not and that we know not of, heart-drawn to see where and by whom great things were suffered and done for them, shall come to this deathless field, to ponder and dream; and lo! The shadow of a mighty presence shall wrap them in its bosom, and the power of the vision pass into their souls.

“Decoration Day”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)

See the soldiers, little ones!

   Hark the drummers' beat!

See them with their flags and guns

   Marching down the street!

Tattered flags from out the wars,

   Let us follow these

To the little stripes and stars

   Twinkling through the trees.

Watch them waving through the grass

   Where the heroes sleep!

Thither gently let us pass

   On this day we keep.

Let us bring our blossoms, too,

   All our gardens grow;

Lilacs honey-sweet with dew,

   And the lilies' snow.

Every posy of the May,

   Every bloomy stem,

Every bud that breaks to-day

   Gather now for them.

Lay the lilies o'er them thus,

   Lovingly, for so

Down they laid their lives for us,

   Long and long ago.

Heap above them bud and bough;

   Softly, ere we cease,

God, we pray Thee, gently now

   Fold them in Thy peace!

Let us close with the first stanza of “Bivouac of the Dead,” a poem composed in 1847 by Theodore O’Hara to memorialize his fallen comrades from the Mexican-American War. These lines appear in national (especially military) cemeteries throughout the United States, including Camp Butler National Cemetery outside Springfield, Illinois, where my father’s mortal remains were laid to rest five years ago this summer.

The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat

The soldier’s last tattoo;

No more on Life’s parade shall meet

That brave and fallen few.

On Fame’s eternal camping ground

Their silent tents to spread,

And Glory guards, with solemn round

The bivouac of the dead.

Requiescant in pace. (May they rest in peace.)

Robertus (Rob)