Memorial Day Week Tribute: May 2025

 Editor's Note:

The fortnightly Quotemail is taking a break right now, but it will return in early June. So this week, we present a tribute to all our departed heroes, in verse and prose, with a special poem by our senior staff writer, my cousin Jerusha.

Jerusha, the Editor's cousin, is pictured here in her backyard with one of her telescopes. (Digital image processed by the Editor.)

"Starlight"

By Jerusha-Emrys

 

The light of distant stars

Gleams through the velvet night

Dancing on my cheek—

A lullaby that never dims

Illuminates my weary mind

Through endless night.

 

My heart flutters to a rhythm

Of soft, twinkling light,

A melody of peace and silence

Soothing all my cares,

A distant song that whispers

"You are never alone."

 

"The Milky Way"

By Anonymous

Evening has come; and across the skies —

Out through the darkness that, quivering, dies —

Beautiful, broad, and white,

Fashioned of many a silver ray

Stolen out of the ruins of Day,

Grows the pale bridge of the Milky Way,

Built by the architect Night.

Dim with shadows, and bright with stars,

Hung like gold lights on invisible bars

Stirred by the wind’s spent breath,

Rising on cloud-shapen pillars of grey,

Perfect it stands, like a tangible way

Binding to-morrow with yesterday,

Reaching to Life from Death.

Dark show the heavens on either side;

Soft flows the blue in a waveless tide

Under the silver arch;

Never a footstep is heard below,

Echoing earthward, as measured and slow,

Over the bridge the still hours go

Bound on their trackless march.

Is it a pathway leading to Heaven

Over Earth’s sin-clouds, rent and riven

With its supernal light,

Crossed by the souls of the loved who have flown

Stilly away from our arms, and alone

Up to the beautiful, great, white Throne

Pass in the hush of night?

Is it the road that our wild dreams walk,

Far beyond reach of our waking talk,

Out to the vague and grand

Far beyond Fancy’s uttermost range,

Out to the Dream-world of marvel and change,

Out to the mystic, unreal and strange —

Out to the Wonderland?

Is it the way that the angels take

When they come down by night to wake

Over the slumbering Earth?

Is it the way the faint stars go back,

Driven by insolent Day from his track

Into the distant mysterious Black

Where their bright souls had birth?

What may it be? Who may certainly say?

Over the shadowy Milky Way

No human foot hath trod.

Aeons have passed; but unsullied and white,

Still it stands, fair as a rainbow of night,

Held like a promise above our dark sight,

Guiding our thoughts to God.

"Follow justice and natural affection, which though great in the case of parents and kinsfolk, is greatest of all in relation to our fatherland. Such is the life that leads to heaven and to this company of those who have now lived their lives and released from their bodies dwell in that place which you can see," — now that place was a circle conspicuous among the fires of heaven by the surpassing whiteness of its glowing light — "which place you mortals, as you have learned from the Greeks, call the Milky Way." And as I surveyed them from this point, all the other heavenly bodies appeared to be glorious and wonderful, — now the stars were such as we have never seen from this Earth; and such was the magnitude of them all as we have never dreamed; and the least of them all was that planet, which farthest from the heavenly sphere and nearest to our earth, was shining with borrowed light, but the spheres of the stars easily surpassed the Earth in magnitude — already the Earth itself appeared to me so small, that it grieved me to think of our empire, with which we cover but a point, as it were, of its surface.

The Dream of Scipio, Section 8, by Cicero (106-43 BCE)

The Milky Way By Anonymous Evening has come; and across the skies— Out through the darkness that, quivering, dies— Beautiful, broad, and white, Fashioned of many a silver ray Stolen out of the ruins of Day, Grows the pale bridge of the Milky Way, Built by the architect Night. Dim with shadows, and bright with stars, Hung like gold lights on invisible bars Stirred by the wind’s spent breath, Rising on cloud-shapen pillars of grey, Perfect it stands, like a tangible way Binding to-morrow with yesterday, Reaching to Life from Death. Dark show the heavens on either side; Soft flows the blue in a waveless tide Under the silver arch; Never a footstep is heard below, Echoing earthward, as measured and slow, Over the bridge the still hours go Bound on their trackless march. Is it a pathway leading to Heaven Over Earth’s sin-clouds, rent and riven With its supernal light, Crossed by the souls of the loved who have flown Stilly away from our arms, and alone Up to the beautiful, great, white Throne Pass in the hush of night? Is it the road that our wild dreams walk, Far beyond reach of our waking talk, Out to the vague and grand Far beyond Fancy’s uttermost range, Out to the Dream-world of marvel and change, Out to the mystic, unreal and strange— Out to the Wonderland? Is it the way that the angels take When they come down by night to wake Over the slumbering Earth? Is it the way the faint stars go back, Driven by insolent Day from his track Into the distant mysterious Black Where their bright souls had birth? What may it be? Who may certainly say? Over the shadowy Milky Way No human foot hath trod. Aons have passed; but unsullied and white, Still it stands, fair as a rainbow of night, Held like a promise above our dark sight, Guiding our thoughts to God.

Source: https://pickmeuppoetry.org/the-milky-way-by-anonymous/  

The Milky Way By Anonymous Evening has come; and across the skies— Out through the darkness that, quivering, dies— Beautiful, broad, and white, Fashioned of many a silver ray Stolen out of the ruins of Day, Grows the pale bridge of the Milky Way, Built by the architect Night. Dim with shadows, and bright with stars, Hung like gold lights on invisible bars Stirred by the wind’s spent breath, Rising on cloud-shapen pillars of grey, Perfect it stands, like a tangible way Binding to-morrow with yesterday, Reaching to Life from Death. Dark show the heavens on either side; Soft flows the blue in a waveless tide Under the silver arch; Never a footstep is heard below, Echoing earthward, as measured and slow, Over the bridge the still hours go Bound on their trackless march. Is it a pathway leading to Heaven Over Earth’s sin-clouds, rent and riven With its supernal light, Crossed by the souls of the loved who have flown Stilly away from our arms, and alone Up to the beautiful, great, white Throne Pass in the hush of night? Is it the road that our wild dreams walk, Far beyond reach of our waking talk, Out to the vague and grand Far beyond Fancy’s uttermost range, Out to the Dream-world of marvel and change, Out to the mystic, unreal and strange— Out to the Wonderland? Is it the way that the angels take When they come down by night to wake Over the slumbering Earth? Is it the way the faint stars go back, Driven by insolent Day from his track Into the distant mysterious Black Where their bright souls had birth? What may it be? Who may certainly say? Over the shadowy Milky Way No human foot hath trod. Aons have passed; but unsullied and white, Still it stands, fair as a rainbow of night, Held like a promise above our dark sight, Guiding our thoughts to God.

Source: https://pickmeuppoetry.org/the-milky-way-by-anonymous/