Hello
everyone –
Tomorrow
(Saturday, May 19th) is celebrated as Armed Forces Day in the United
States, and Memorial Day will be observed nine days later, on Monday, May 28th.
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.
“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!
We close
with a special poem that takes on renewed meaning this year, which marks the
100th anniversary of the conclusion of World War I.
“For the
Fallen” (1914)
By Laurence
Binyon (1869-1943)
With proud
thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England
mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of
her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in
the cause of the free.
Solemn the
drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings
sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is
music in the midst of desolation
And a glory
that shines upon our tears.
They went
with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of
limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were
staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell
with their faces to the foe.
They shall
grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall
not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the
going down of the Sun and in the morning
We will
remember them.
They mingle
not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no
more at familiar tables of home;
They have
no lot in our labor of the day-time;
They sleep
beyond England’s foam.
But where
our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a
well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the
innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the
stars are known to the Night;
As the stars
that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in
marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the
stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end,
to the end, they remain.
Requiescant
in pace. (May they rest in peace.)
Robertus
(Rob)
