A Few Veterans Day Poems

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,

Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

Asleep are the ranks of the dead:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day:--

Under the one, the Blue;

Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,

Those in the gloom of defeat,

All with the battle-blood gory,

In the dust of eternity meet:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day:--

Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours

The desolate mourners go,

Lovingly laden with flowers,

Alike for the friend and the foe:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day:--

Under the roses, the Blue;

Under the lilies, the Gray.

So, with an equal splendor

The morning sun-rays fall,

With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day:--

Broidered with gold, the Blue;

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,

With an equal murmur falleth

The cooling drip of the rain:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day:--

Wet with the rain, the Blue;

Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

The generous deed was done.

In the storm of the years that are fading

No braver battle was won:--

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;

Under the blossoms, the Blue;

Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red:

They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead!

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting for Judgment Day:--

Love and tears for the Blue;

Tears and love for the Gray.

Francis Mlies Finch

Were a star quenched on high,

For ages would its light,

Still traveling downward from the sky,

Shine on our mortal sight.

So when a great man dies,

For years beyond our kin,

The light he leaves behind him lies

Upon the paths of men.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A day of tender memory,

A day of sacred hours,

Of little bands of marching men,

Of drums and flags and flowers.

A day when a great nation halts,

Its mighty throbbing pace,

And by its meed of gratitude

Shows love with willing grace.

Aday to keep from year to year

In memory of the dead;

Let music sound and flowers be laid

Upon each resting bed.

Emma A. Lent

Thank you so much for visiting. If you have a few veterans day poems or salutes to your loved ones you would like to share with us please do so.