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TREES AND OTHER POEMS MEMORIAL DAY

HE bugle echoes shrill and sweet,

But not of war it sings to-day.

The road is rhythmic with the feet

Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red

On tombs where weary soldiers lie;

Flags wave above the honored dead

And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,

They kept the faith and fought the fight.

Through flying lead and crimson steel

They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn

Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,

Who went through fire and death to earn

At last the accolade of God.

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