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General Memorial Day Poem

Discussion in 'Literature' started by MLSS, May 29, 2016.

  1. MLSS

    MLSS Android Expert
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    Deep in the mist far beyond where eagles fly
    Deep in the mist far past where our eyes can see
    Those brave soldiers stand tall
    They gave their last breath
    They gave their last full measure
    They knew knew the cost
    They knew the pain
    They left behind their families, thier friends, their lives
    They fought til the end thinking only of their friends
    They laid down their lives and as the bugle calls they disappear into the mist
    Far beyond where eagles fly
    Far beyond where our eyes can see
    They stand tall at the watch
    They stand at attention, frozen in time
    They stand for the next man who enters the mist...........


    Their are so many brothers whom I will forever miss, but I know they are standing tall in the mist.
     

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  2. Mikestony

    Mikestony ~30% Carbon Black ±
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    Very nice @MLSS :thumbsup:

    Many, including myself will never know the horrors of war those brave soldiers encountered. I cannot even fathom what they went through and what they gave up.

    Very fitting poem ;)
     
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  3. MLSS

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    In Flanders Fields
    By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
    Canadian Army

    In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
    Between the crosses row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie
    In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
    In Flanders fields.

    This is one I read at our memorial day service this morning.
    It was written in WWI.
    Flanders Field is where the bodies were laid to rest after a battle. Their was so much lime in the soil from the burials that nothing would grow except red poppies. Which is where we also get that tradition from.
     

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