Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. On an Irish Grave.


In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. Martin Luther King, Jr.


The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example. Benjamin Disraeli.


These heroes are dead. They died for liberty - they died for us. They are at rest. They sleep in the land they made free, under the flag they rendered stainless, under the solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the tearful willows, and the embracing vines. They sleep beneath the shadows of the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or of storm, each in the windowless place of rest. Earth may run red with other wars - they are at peace. In the midst of battle, in the roar of conflict, they found the serenity of death.


I have one


sentiment for soldiers living and dead: cheers for the living; tears for the dead. Robert G. Ingersoll.


All we have of freedom, all we use or know - This our fathers bought for us long and long ago. Rudyard Kipling, The Old Issue, 1899.


Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours, Lying so silent by night and by day Sleeping the years of their manhood away. Give them the meed they have won in the past; Give them the honours their future forcast; Give them the chaplets they won in the strife; Give them the laurels they lost with their life. Will Carleton.


But the freedom that they fought for, and the country grand they wrought for, Is their monument to-day, and for aye. Thomas Dunn English.


The hero dead cannot expire: The dead still play their part. Charles Sangster


We who are left how shall we look again happily on the sun or feel the rain without remembering how they who went ungrudgingly and spent their lives for us loved, too, the sun and rain? Wilfred Wilson Gibson.


Who kept the faith and fought the fight; The glory theirs, the duty ours. Wallace Bruce


We come, not to mourn our dead soldiers, but to praise them. Francis A. Walker


Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth; Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth... Thomas Moore.


How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell, a weeping hermit, there. William Collins.


And they who for their country die shall fill an honoured grave, for glory lights the soldier's tomb, and beauty weeps the brave.


Joseph Drake.


Your silent tents of green ,we deck with fragrant flowers; Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.


31.


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