O noble dead who rest beneath the sod Or sleep in peace below the surging sea, Whose souls are merged with the eternal God, Who know the truths of life's eternity; Whose deeds while in the finite, earth-born clay Gave proof to us of innate nobleness Which we, the living, recognize today With chastened hearts through memory's bitterness We honor thee. We plant the sweetest blooms upon each grave, We scatter blossoms o'er the ocean's breast, Remembering the toll of lives which saved Our country from destruction, manifest. We see again the cruel hand of Death Steal from our midst the fairest of the fair, And as we gaze in fear with bated breath We wonder, weep, and question in despair, And honor thee. O noble dead who died for Country's weal, Words are mere mouthings which cannot express The gratitude which we, united, feel For your brave spirit of true nobleness. There is no North, no South, no sundered twain, No mailed coat of blue, no garb of gray, But all are one, in unity again, All reverently keep this holy day, And honor thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAMELOPARD by HILAIRE BELLOC CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BLACK RUNNER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON WITH CHAOS IN EACH KISS by TIMOTHY LIU |