"In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae**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.****"We Shall Keep the Faith" by Moina Michael**Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.****Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address**But, in a larger sense,
we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground.
The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it,
far above our poor power to add or detract
The world will little note,
nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work
which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.****"When Johnny Comes Marching Home" by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore**
When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer, the boys will shout,
The ladies they will all turn out,
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
The old church bells will peal with joy,
To welcome home our darling boy,
The village lads and lassies say
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.****"Taps" by Horace Lorenzo Trim**Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.****"Memorial Day" by William Henry Clay Dodson**Hither we come to scatter flowers
This thirtieth day of May,
Upon our fallen heroes' graves
On this Memorial Day;
We cherish now no bitter thoughts
In this fair land of ours,
But on all fallen heroes' graves
We come to scatter flowers.
The rank and file in North and South
Believed their cause was just;
We find upon each battle flag
Inscribed, "In God We Trust"
And in this sunny land of ours,
Now sleeping side by side,
The Union Blue and Southern Gray
Lie buried where they died.
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