SwiftVets.com

[Fort Campbell]

A tribute to one of our fallen............................

http://www.talkmilitary.com/Bobby.wmv

May God Bless Bobby Warns and all the thousands of others like him who died that we may be free.

[Guest]

"Do not squander the time given to you by God or the freedom preserved by this Marine's life." —Rev. Michael Dolan

[LewWaters]

Originally written for England during WW1, this poem's fourth stanza is engraved on many a Memorial for the fallen;

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 grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
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 (1869-1943) written 1914

[MLB]

I posted this a year and a half ago. Hope no one minds the repeat.



A Soldier

His boots stand at attention
Upon the windswept hill
His empty helmet rests atop
His rifle straight and still

He heard his country beckon
He passed the final test
He gave his life with valor
Conviction in his breast

The memories come softly
When he was but a boy
His laughter falling gently o’er
A game, or favorite toy

His shirt - it needed tucking
His tousled hair - a comb
His pockets filled with creeping things
The stray dog he brought home

His prayers each night at bedtime
His kisses, hugs, and pleas
His dirty face, his untied shoes
His scraped and bleeding knees

His love to tell a secret
In quiet, whispered tones
His baseball cap, his well-worn glove
Lost teeth, and broken bones

Then all too fast it happened
He was a boy no more
Instead, a man, with wife and child
And honor through his core

He loved the world around him
He loved the gift of life
He loved his newborn daughter
He loved his sweetheart wife

He had a love of freedom
He had a love of God
He had a love of country
With courage he was shod

He heard his country beckon
He passed the final test
He gave his life with valor
Conviction in his breast

His boots stand at attention
Upon the windswept hill
His empty helmet rests atop
His rifle straight and still
_________________
MLB