Day of Remembrance

by Kismet 3 Replies latest jw friends

• 

  Kismet

  November 11 @ 11:00

  In memory of those who have fought for the freedoms now enjoyed by us.

  In Flanders Fields

  by Lt. Col. John McCrae, M.D. (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.

  Thank you to the brave souls who stood up and did what was needed, regardless of whether Canadian, American, British, Australian, Russian, or any of the other Allied countries.

  Kismet
• 

  Scully

  Nice to see you Kismet. Hope things are well with you.

  Love, Scully

  Edited by - Scully on 11 November 2002 12:59:52
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  nilfun

  At the eleventh hour, here in my town, snow is softly falling......
  
  
  A couple of poems for remembrance......
  
  
  Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind (I)
  
  Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
  Because the lover threw wild hands toward the sky
  And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
  Do not weep.
  War is kind.
  
  Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
  Little souls who thirst for fight,
  These men were born to drill and die.
  The unexplained glory flies above them,
  Great is the Battle-God, great, and his Kingdom -
  A field where a thousand corpses lie.
  
  Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
  Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
  Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
  Do not weep.
  War is kind.
  
  Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
  Eagle with crest of red and gold,
  These men were born to drill and die.
  Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
  Make plain to them the excellence of killing
  And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
  
  Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
  On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
  Do not weep.
  War is kind.
  
  -Stephen Crane

  For The Fallen
  
  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 not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
  Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
  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 labour 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.
  
  
  -Laurence Binyon
• 

  DakotaRed

  The following poem is actually a Christmas poem, but it also pays tribute to those who maintain us a free people. To me, it is also quite a tear jerker, bringing tears to my own eyes.

  Lew W

  Santa meets Soldier

  "'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE,

  IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF  PLASTER AND STONE.

  I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY  WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,

  AND TO SEE JUST WHO  IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

  LOOKED ALL ABOUT,  A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,

  NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,  NOT EVEN A TREE.

  NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,  JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,

  ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES  OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

  WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,  AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,

  A SOBER THOUGHT  CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

  FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,  IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,

  I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,  ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

  THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,  SILENT, ALONE,

  CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR  IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

  THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,  THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,

  NOT HOW I PICTURED  A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

  WAS THIS THE HERO  OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?

  CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,  THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

  I REALIZED THE FAMILIES  THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,

  OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS  WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

  SOON ROUND THE WORLD,  THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,

  AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE  A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

  THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM  EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,

  BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,  LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

  I COULDN'T HELP WONDER  HOW MANY LAY ALONE,

  ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE  IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

  THE VERY THOUGHT  BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,

  I DROPPED TO MY KNEES  AND STARTED TO CRY.

  THE SOLDIER AWAKENED  AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,

  "SANTA DON'T CRY,  THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

  I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,  I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,

  MY LIFE IS MY GOD,  MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

  THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER  AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,

  I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,  I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

  I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,  SO SILENT AND STILL

  AND WE BOTH SHIVERED  FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

  I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE  ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,

  THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR  SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

  THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,  WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,

  WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,  IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

  ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,  AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.

  "MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,  AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."

  Lt Col. Bruce Lovely, USAF

  Dec. 1993