Hero Poetry
Freedom Is Not Free
I Watched The Flag Pass By One Day
It Fluttered In The Breeze
A Young Marine Saluted It
And Then He Stood At Ease
I Looked At Him In Uniform
So Young, So Tall, So Proud
With Hair Cut Square And Eyes Alert
He'd Stand Out In Any Crowd
I Thought How Many Men Like Him
Had Fallen Through The Years
How Many Died On Foreign Soil?
How Many Mother's Tears?
How Many Pilot's Planes Shot Down?
How Many Died At Sea?
How Many Foxholes Were Soldiers Graves?
NO!!!
Freedom Is Not Free
I Heard The Sound Of Taps One Night, When Everything Was Still
I Listened To The Bugler Play And Felt A Sudden Chill
I Wondered Just How Many Times
That Taps Had Meant "Amen"
When A Flag Had Covered A Coffin
Of A Brother Or A Friend
I Thought Of All The Children
Of The Mothers And The Wives
Of Fathers, Sons And Husbands
With Interrupted Lives
I Thought About A Graveyard
At The Bottom Of The Sea
Of Unmarked Graves In Arlington
NO!!!
Freedom Is Not Free
Author Unknown
Eulogy For A Veteran
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
I Am Not There, I Do Not Sleep
I Am A Thousand Winds That Blow
I Am The Diamond Glints On Snow
I Am The Sunlight On Ripened Grain
I Am The Gentle Autumn Rain
When You Awaken In The Mornings Hush
I Am The Swift Uplifting Rush
Of Quiet Birds In Circled Flight
I Am The Soft Stars That Shine At Night
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Cry
I Am Not There, I Did Not Die
Author Unknown
Memorial Day By Robert G. Ingersoll
These Heroes Are Dead
They Died For Liberty
They Died For Us
They Are At Rest
They Sleep In The Land They Made Free
Under The Flag They Rendered Stainless
Under The Solemn Pines, The Sad Hemlocks
The Tearful Willows, The Embracing Vines
They Sleep Beneath The Shadow Of The Clouds
Careless Alike Of Sunshine Or Storm
Each In The Windowless Palace Of Rest
Earth May Run Red With Other Wars
They Are At Peace
In The Midst Of The Battles, In The Roar Of Conflicts
They Found The Serenity Of Death
I Have A Rendezvous With Death
By Alan Seegar
1888-1916
I Have A Rendezvous With Death
At Some Disputed Barricade
When Spring Comes Back With Rustling Shade
And Apple Blossoms Fill The Air
I Have A Rendezvous With Death
When Spring Brings Back Blue Days And Fair
It May Be He Shall Take My Hand
And Lead Me Into His Dark Land
And Close My Eyes And Quench My Breath
It May Be I Shall Pass Him Still
I Have A Rendezvous With Death
On Some Scarred Slope Of Battered Hill
When Spring Comes Round Again This Year
And The First Meadow Flowers Appear
God Knows 'Twere Better To Be Deep
Pillowed In Silk And Scented Down
Where Love Throbs Out In Blissful Sleep
Pulse Nigh To Pulse And Breath To Breath
Where Hushed Awakenings Are Dear
But I've A Rendezvous With Death
At Midnight In Some Flaming Town
When Spring Trips North Again This Year
And To My Pledged Word Am True
I Shall Not Fail That Rendezvous
High Flight
Oh, I Have Slipped The Surly Bonds Of Earth
And Danced The Skies On Laughter Silvered Wings
Sunward, I've Climbed And Joined The Tumbling Mirth
Of Sun Split Clouds And Done A Hundred Things
You Have Not Dreamed Of Wheeled And Soared And Swung
High In The Sunlit Silence, Hov'ring There
I've Chased The Shouting Wind Along And Flung
My Eager Craft Through Footless Halls Of Air
Up, Up The Long, Delirious, Burning Blue
I've Topped The Wind Swept Heights With Easy Grace
Where Never Lark Or Even Eagle Flew
And While With Silent, Lifting Mind I've Trod
The High Untrespassed Sanctity Of Space
Put Out My Hand And Touched The Face Of God
Written By John Gillespie Magee Jr.
A 19-Year Old American Volunteer With The Royal Canadian Air Force
He Was Killed In Action
December 11--1941
All Quiet Along The Potomac
All Quiet Along The Potomac, They Say
Except Now And Then A Stray Picket
Is Shot As He Walks On His Beat To And Fro
By A Rifleman Hid In The Thicket
'Tis Nothing, A Private Or Two Now And Then
Will Not Count In The News Of The Battle
Not An Officer Lost, Only One Of The Men
Moaning Out All Alone The Death Rattle
All Quiet Along The Potomac Tonight
Where The Soldiers Lie Peacefully Dreaming
Their Tents In The Rays Of The Clear Autumn Moon
O'er The Light Of The Watch Fires, Are Gleaming
A Tremulous Sigh, As The Gentle Night Wind
Through The Forest Leaves Softly Is Creeping
While Stars Up Above, With Their Glittering Eyes
Keep Guard For The Army Is Sleeping
There's Only The Sound Of The Lone Sentry's Tread
As He Tramps From The Rock To The Fountain
And Thinks Of The Two In The Low Trundle Bed
Far Away In The Cot On The Mountain
His Musket Falls Slack And His Face Dark And Grim
Grows Gentle With Memories Tender
As He Mutters A Prayer For The Children Asleep
For Their Mother, May Heaven Defend Her
The Moon Seems To Shine Just As Brightly As Then
That Night When The Love Yet Unspoken
Leaped Up To His Lips When Low Murmured Vows
Were Pledged To Be Ever Unbroken
Then Drawing His Sleeve Roughly Over His Eye
He Dashes Off Tears That Are Welling
And Gathers His Gun Closer Up To Its Place
As If To Keep Down The Heart Swelling
He Passes The Fountain, The Blasted Pine Tree
The Footstep Is Lagging And Weary
Yet Onward He Goes Through The Broad Belt Of Light
Toward The Shades Of The Forest So Dreary
Hark! Was It The Night Wind That Rustled The Leaves
Was It Moonlight So Wondrously Flashing?
It Looks Like A Rifle "Ah! Mary, GoodBye!"
And The Lifeblood Is Ebbing And Splashing
All Quiet Along The Potomac Tonight
No Sound Save The Rush Of The River
While Soft Falls The Dew On The Face Of The Dead
The Picket's Off Duty Forever
Author Unknown
From The Lady Of The Lake Soldier Rest!
Thy Warfare O'er
Sir Walter Scott Scottish Poet 1771-1832
Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er
Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking
Dream Of Battled Fields No More
Days Of Danger, Nights Of Waking
In Our Isle's Enchanted Hall
Hands Unseen Thy Couch Are Strewing
Fairy Strains Of Music Fall
Every Sense In Slumber Dewing
Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er
Dream Of Fighting Fields No More
Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking
Morn Of Toil, Nor Night Of Waking
No Rude Sound Shall Reach Thine Ear
Armour's Clang Or War Steed Champing
Trump Nor Pibroch Summon Here
Mustering Clan Or Squadron Tramping
Yet The Lark's Shrill Fife May Come
At The Day Break From The Fallow
And The Bittern Sound His Drum
Booming From The Sedgy Shallow
Ruder Sounds Shall None Be Near
Guards Nor Warders Challenge Here
Here's No War Steed's Neigh And Champing
Shouting Clans Or Squadrons Stamping
Huntsman, Rest! Thy Chase Is Done
While Our Slumbrous Spells Assail Ye
Dream Not With The Rising Sun
Bugles Here Shall Sound Reveille
Sleep! The Deer Is In His Den
Sleep! Thy Hounds Are By Thee Lying
Sleep! Nor Dream In Yonder Glen
How Thy Gallant Steed Lay Dying
Huntsman, Rest! Thy Chase Is Done
Think Not Of The Rising Sun
For At Dawning To Assail Ye
Here No Bugles Sound Reveille
A Peace Hymn Of The Republic
By James Whitcomb Riley
There's A Voice Across The Nation Like A Might Ocean Hail
Borne Up From Out The Southward As The Seas Before The Gale
Its Breath Is In The Streaming Flag And In The Flying Sail
As We Go Sailing On
'Tis A Voice That We Remember, Ere It Summons Soothed As Now
When It Rang In Battle Challenge And We Answered Vow With Vow
With Roar Of Gun And Hiss Of Sword And Crash Of Prow And Prow
As We Went Sailing On
Our Hope Sank, Even As We Saw The Sun Sink Faint And Far
The Ship Of State Went Groping Through The Blinding Smoke Of War
Through Blackest Midnight Lurching All Uncheered Of Moon Or Star
Yet Sailing Sailing On
As One Who Spake The Dead Awake With Life Blood Leaping Warm
-
Who Walked The Troubled Waters All Unscathed In Mortal Form
We Felt Our Pilot's Presence With His Hand Upon The Storm
As We Went Sailing On
O Voice Of Passion Lulled To Peace, This Dawning Of Today
O Voices Twain Now Blent As One, Ye Sing All Fears Away
Since Foe And Foe Are Friends And Lo! The Lord, As Glad As They
He Sends Us Sailing On
COPYRIGHT © 2000-
RASKY'S VIETNAM MEMORIAL
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED