Thin are the blue clad ranks today, once half a million strong.
And slow and feeble are the feet that once marched far and long;
Once more together they will march with slow, uncertain tramp,
To see their comrades who have gone before them into camp.
Soon all the weary feet will halt, the last march will be made,
For them, the low, green tents be spread on hillside or on glade;
No more together they will march with slow and broken tramp;
To all the order will be given: “Break ranks go into camp!”
– Author Unknown
Soldier, father, softly slumber in your green and grassy bed, Close beside the wife you cherished, and the children laid to rest.
Hushed the music of your voice, Gone to join the ones you loved; Fondest memories weave around you,
‘No one else can fill your place.
Far beyond the din of battle, Clarion notes and noise of war;
You have heard the summons,
“Enter,” Through the pearly gates ajar.
Though your children here are lonely, there is now a vacant chair,
You have filled your threescore years and ten allotted,
as man’s portion here below.
Rest for you shall be the sweeter
since you risked your life the strife to quell,
Noble warrior, wear thy laurels, Soldier, father, friend farewell.
– Author UnknownKiosk,Veterans Listing Dec 2018