Memorial Day: Poems & Reflections

Dear Family, Friends, & Colleagues:

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. In my family, this is a day to remember my Dad and all my uncles – all of whom were veterans of the World War II era – and my maternal grandfather, a veteran of the First American Expeditionary Force in World War I. 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.

“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!

The following patriotic hymn may already be familiar to many readers. It was performed at my Dad’s memorial service in June 2010.

"I Vow to Thee, My Country" (1921)

By Sir Cecil Spring Rice

I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,

Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;

The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,

That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;

The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,

The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.

And there's another country, I've heard of long ago,

Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;

We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;

Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;

And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,

And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.

“Crossing the Bar” (1889)

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1807-1892)

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

Tennyson remarked about this poem: “The Pilot has been on board all the while, but in the dark I have not seen him… [He is] that Divine and Unseen Who is always guiding us.”

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 six 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)

Special Edition: Blue Moon & Red Planet

Dear Family, Friends, & Colleagues:

This weekend, two amazing celestial events will be taking place. On Saturday evening, the 21^st, we will have a Full Blue Moon! This particular Full Moon is a Blue Moon because it’s the third Full Moon (of four) in a given season of the year (in this case, spring) – a phenomenon that happens only once every 2-1/2 years or so (hence the expression, “Once in a Blue Moon”). The Moon won’t actually appear blue in the sky – but that’s OK – it will still be bright and beautiful, like every other Full Moon that I’ve ever seen.

Here are a few of my favorite poems about the Moon to get you ready for this “once in a Blue Moon” event!

“Faeries”

By Evaleen Stein
 

Grandfather says that sometimes,
When stars are twinkling and
A New Moon shines, there come times
When folks see faery-land!

So when there’s next a New Moon,
I mean to watch all night!
Grandfather says a Blue Moon
Is best for faery light,

And in a peach-bloom, maybe,
If I look I shall see
A little faery baby
No bigger than a bee!

“The Moon Was but a Chin of Gold”

By Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

The Moon was but a chin of gold

A night or two ago,

And now she turns her perfect face

Upon the world below.  

Her forehead is of amplest blond;

Her cheek like beryl stone;

Her eye unto the summer dew

The likest I have known.

 

Her lips of amber never part;

But what must be the smile

Upon her friend she could bestow

Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest star!

For certainly her way might pass

Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,

The Universe her shoe,

The stars the trinkets at her belt,

Her dimities of blue.

On Sunday evening, the 22^nd, the Red Planet, Mars, will be at opposition – exactly opposite the Sun in our sky. That means it will rise at sunset and set and sunrise – it will be out all night, at its biggest and brightest in recent years, and it will be near the Moon, too! Here are a couple of poems about Mars and the characteristics ascribed to it in ancient mythology.

2 Poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

A PSALM OF LIFE

(WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST)

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real !   Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, however pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God overhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

THE LIGHT OF STARS

(A SECOND PSALM OF LIFE)

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.

Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
Oh no! from that blue tent above
A hero's armor gleams.

And earnest thoughts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.

O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.

The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoever thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

Oh, fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.

And of course, to reach Mars within the next couple of decades, we’ll need courage, determination, and PEACE so that the nations of the world can cooperate on this grand adventure! :)

Until next time –

Rob

Saluting Our Graduates on Friday the 13th!

Dear Family, Friends, & Colleagues:

This weekend, thousands of students will be graduating from the University of Illinois. There will be celebrations and congratulations all around for academic accomplishments and honors well deserved. There will also be a lot of questions and wonderings about the future. What will students do after their graduation? Will they enter the job market in the “real world,” or will they continue their education, either here in Champaign-Urbana or elsewhere? Even more importantly, what kind of world will these intrepid young scholars build for us – and for their inheritors? What kinds of leaders will they become, and what kind of advice would I give them for their journey?

As I was reflecting on these questions, I recalled a poem based on Greek mythology about the wanderings of Odysseus (a/k/a Ulysses), a Greek warrior-hero who returned from the Trojan War by a very circuitous route on the high seas that lasted a decade. He encountered cannibals, enchantments, monsters, and a hostile Poseidon (the Olympian ruler of the oceans) along the way, but he survived (and thrived) through exercising his leadership skills and keeping calm under pressure. When Odysseus finally arrived at Ithaca, his island kingdom, he was indeed a very weary but also a wiser man, based on all that he had learned from his far-flung adventures.

“Ithaca” (1911)

By Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)

When you set sail for Ithaca,

Wish for the road to be long,

Full of adventures, full of knowledge.

The cannibals and the Cyclops,

An angry Poseidon — do not fear.

You will never find such on your path,

If your thoughts remain lofty, and your spirit

And body are touched by a fine emotion.

The cannibals and the Cyclops,

A savage Poseidon you will not encounter,

If you do not carry them within your spirit,

If your spirit does not place them before you.

Wish for the road to be long.

Many the summer mornings to be when,

With what pleasure, what joy,

You will enter ports seen for the first time.

Stop at Phoenician markets,

And purchase the fine goods,

Mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

And exquisite perfumes of all sorts,

The most delicate fragrances you can find.

To many Egyptian cities you must go,

To learn and learn from the cultivated.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.

To arrive there is your final destination.

But do not hurry the voyage at all.

It is better for it to last many years,

And when old to rest in the island,

Rich with all you have gained on the way,

Not expecting Ithaca to offer you wealth.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful journey.

Without her, you would not have set out on the road.

Nothing more does she have to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.

Wise as you have become, with so much experience,

You must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

BONUS POEM!

Here are some verses about Odysseus’ further adventures, in his later years, for those of us who have already graduated but still yearn for adventure on the high seas of lifelong learning.

“Ulysses” (1842)

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle —
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me —
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Happy Commencement Weekend! :)

Rob