The bugle echoes shrill and sweet, <br />But not of war it sings today. <br />The road is rhythmic with the feet <br />Of men-at-arms who come to pray. <br /> <br />The rose blossoms white and red <br />On tombs where weary soldiers lie; <br />Flags wave above the honored dead <br />And martial music cleaves the sky. <br /> <br />Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel, <br />They kept the faith and fought the fight. <br />Through flying lead and crimson steel <br />They plunged for Freedom and the Right. <br /> <br />May we, their grateful children, learn <br />Their strength, who lie beneath this sod, <br />Who went through fire and death to earn <br />At last the accolade of God. <br /> <br />In shining rank on rank arrayed, <br />They march, the legions of the Lord; <br />He is their Captain unafraid, <br />The Prince of Peace. . . who brought a sword.<br /><br />Alfred Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memorial-day-2/
