Memorial Day in Poems, Prayers, Essays

"...gather around their sacred remains and garland the passionless mounds above them with choicest flowers of springtime....let us in this solemn presence renew our pledges to aid and assist those they have left among us as sacred charges upon the Nation's gratitude,--the soldier's and sailor's widow and orphan."
--Gen. John Logan, General Order 11, 5 May 1868

The bivouac of the dead
By Theodore O’Hara

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat.
The soldier's last tattoo
'No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few;
On Fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread;
But Glory guards with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.


Taps- The words

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lake,
From the skies.

All is well, safely rest<
God is nigh. Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep,

May the soldieror, sailor, God keep.
On the landor the deep,
Safe in sleep.

Love, good night, Must thou go,
When the day, And the night
Need thee so?

All is well. Speedeth all
To their rest. Fades the light;
And afarGoeth day,

And the star. Shineth bright,
Fare thee well; Day has gone,
Night is on. Thanks and praise,
For our days,

'Neath the sun,
'Neath the sky,
'Neath the stars.

I Am A Navy Corpsman
by Mark A. Wright, HMC(SS) USN

I am a navy corpsman. I possess the stamina and enthusiasm of youth and the wisdom and experience of an old man.

I am 3 parts doctor, 1 part nurse, 2 parts marine, 1 part yeoman and 3 parts mom, yet I am 100% sailor.

I am unemployable to the civilian world in my given profession yet have been the very life line for countless marines, soldiers and sailors since 1778.

I have carried marines from the battle field ... and have ben carried reverently myself by marines who mourned my passing like that of a brother or sister.

I am young. I am old. brave, scared and scarred. my title has changed over the years: loblolly boy, surgeons stewart, pharmacist mate, hospital corpsman, IDC, yet with all the changes I am still simply know as "doc".

I have celebrated peace; yet felt the sting of war on the seas, in jungles, in foreign cities, in Washington D.C. and on beaches of every shade of sand... white, tan, coral and black.
I have raised hell on liberty; hope in the midst of battle .... and Old Glory on Iwo Jima.

I have removed appendixes on submarines and limbs in the midst of battle and many other procedures far above and beyond what I am expected to do by the normal practice of medicine because it had to be done in order to save the life of a marine or sailor in battle or under the ice, far from a doctors care.

I have ignored my own wounds to the point of death in order to stay at my station treating the wounded of my nations navy, marine corp, army and air force. I have the highest number of medal of honors of any corp in the Navy .....most of them presented to my wife, child or mother because I was already in heaven at the time.

I am proud to know in my heart that every marine who has ever fought and every sailor who has gone to sea on ships owe their very lives to those they simply, yet respectfully know as "doc" .


Arlington
By Marian H. Neudel 1990
The bloodied sun sinks in the west
And lights us all with glory;
Here sleep the brave in honored rest;
The bugler tells our story;

O dulce et decorum est pro patria mori;
O dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

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Go tell the people, passer-by,
Read the stone before ye,
Tis sweet and fitting that we die
For our country's glory;

Obedient to your will we lie
Pro patria mori; O dulce et decorum
est pro patria mori.
From under stone we've often seen
These lures to empty glory;

We know what deaths these words can mean,
Lonely, cold and gory;
We find these Latin words obscene,
Pro patria mori,
O dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori.

We have no country of our own,
We who sleep in glory;
We died your hatreds to atone,
Still you shun our story;

Oh write no more on any stone,
Pro patria mori;
O dulce et decorum est,
pro patria mori.


The Navy Hymn
Audio at: http://www.navy.mil/palib/questions/eternal.html

Eternal Father, strong to save
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.

O Christ, whose voice the waters heard,
And hushed their raging at thy word
Who walkedst on the foaming deep
And calm amid the storm didst sleep:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.

O Holy Spirit, who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude
And bid the angry tumult cease
And give for wild confusion peace:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.