Memorial Day






Day is done Gone the sun From the Lakes From the hills From the sky.
All is well, Safely rest. God is nigh. Fading light Dims the sight
And a star Gems the sky, Gleaming bright From afar, Drawing nigh, Falls the night.
Thanks and praise, For our days, Neath the sun, Neath the stars, Neath the sky,
As we go, This we know, God is nigh.





In Flanders field the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.



Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

~Major John McCrae, May 1915.~