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.— Moina Michael
Off-limits Memorial Day Poems quotations
Some days I wish I could go back in life. Not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow.
Our nation owes a debt to its fallen heroes that we can never fully repay, but we can honor their sacrifice.
One day, you will wake up and there won't be any more time to do the thing you've always wanted. Do it now.
Green sods are all their monument; and yet it tells A nobler history than pillared piles, Or the eternal pyramids.
Honoring the sacrifices many have made for our country in the name of freedom and democracy is the very foundation of Veterans Day.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.
I fear the day that technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots.
On thy grave the rain shall fall from the eyes of a mighty nation!
They fell, but o'er their glorious grave Floats free the banner of the cause they died to save.
The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below
A little progress each day adds up to bg results.
I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one.
I'd like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done. I'd like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways, Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days. I'd like the tears of those who grieve, to dry before the sun of happy memories that I leave when life is done.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.
Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours.
It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.
They saw their injured country's woe;
The flaming town, the wasted field; Then rushed to meet the insulting foe; They took the spear, - but left the shield.
There comes a day when you realize turning the page is the best feeling in the world, because you realize there is so much more to the book than the page you were stuck on.
They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this Nation.
Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.
I have one sentiment for soldiers living and dead: cheers for the living; tears for the dead.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land, God Bless the U.S.A.
With the tears a Land hath shed. Their graves should ever be green.
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth; Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth.
Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different.
Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours, Lying so silent by night and by day.
Then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
"Dead upon the field of glory," Hero fit for song and story.
Look for something positive in every day, even if some days you have to look a little harder.
Fold him in his country's stars. Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly?
Knights of the spirit; warriors in the cause Of justice absolute 'twixt man and man.
Alas, how can we help but mourn When hero bosoms yield their breath! A century itself may bear But once the flower of such a death.
Live the way you want to be remembered.
The hero dead cannot expire: The dead still play their part.
They saw their injured country's woe.
The Flag still floats unblotted with defeat! But ah the blood that keeps its ripples red, The starry lives that keep its field alight.
There are seven days in the week and someday isn't one of them.
Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee.
Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more. Days of danger, nights of waking.
Are they dead that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are they dead that yet move upon society and inspire the people with nobler motives and more heroic patriotism?
Decoration Day is the most beautiful of our national holidays.
... The grim cannon have turned into palm branches, and the shell and shrapnel into peach blossoms.