Funeral Poem for a Soldier

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day
Eleven O'Clock
The crowd is gathered
Blood stained lapel
In a silence of white crosses
The granite monument inspires
Bronze men, stand up!
The people commemorate
your sacrifice
Paraded from the
horrific maelstrom
All wars mistaken
Memory engraved with
the chisel of war
Outpourings of feelings
In a wreath of poppies
A mother offers the last lament
Of a son fallen
for his country
O murderous war!
When will you
drop your guns?

Denyse B. Mercier

Funeral Poems: 

Memorial Day - The Bugle Echos

Memorial Day

The 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.
In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace . . .
Who brought a sword.

Joyce Kilmer

Funeral Poems: 

In Flanders Fields the Poppies Blow

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields 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 faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

Funeral Poems: 

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England.

There shall be in that rich earth
a richer dust concealed;
A dust that England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts of England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)

Funeral Poems: 

We Carry On

We Carry On

There are many words that will,
Forever remain unspoken.
For the loss of our loved ones,
Left us all heart-broken.

They defended our freedom,
And paid the ultimate price.
For the way we live our lives,
They gave their sacrifice.

They have given their lives,
To help us calm our fears.
But the sacrifices that they made
Will never wash away our tears.

The people of our nation will,
Forever be in their debt.
They are no longer with us,
For their fates had been met.

All that we can do now
Is to look into the past.
Cherish the times together spent,
and make those memories last.

Our lives may be emptier,
Now that that they may be gone.
But we must fulfill their legacy,
By the lives we carry on.

By: Jon M. Nelson

Funeral Poems: 

On the death of a Navy Seal

(found in Virginian-Pilot obituary)

navy seal killed in action
Submitted by okie on Fri, 09/03/2010 at 10:20 am

Don't think we failed to notice
Or flipped his story by;
Or could even help but breathe:
"A better man than I."

We neither fought beside him
Nor saw him laid to rest
But in a world where few things shine
We pause before the best.

A flag of cloth is lowered
Whenever soldiers die
But in its place, for all to note:
A standard ever high.

Funeral Poems: 

For The Fallen - They shall not grow old

For The Fallen

This poem is well known for the words

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them

The whole poem reads as follows:

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869-1943

Funeral Poems: 

In Memory of Our Young Soldier

Funeral Poem for a Soldier

In Loving Memory of Our Young Soldier

His home was with his family,
And his home was with his friends,
Then his home was with the Army,
The U.S. Army that made him a man.

He traveled far from home for his country,
Places most of us have never been,
A comrade in arms in Afghanistan,
Proud to be one of America’s men.

He always made time for his family,
Kept in touch with soldiers and friends,
From N.C. & Indiana to Alabama,
The list of those he touched never ends.

Now his home is high in heaven,
Home again with family and friends,
Still watching over America’s people,
Still loving the country he defends.

Thank you, Chris.
We are so proud of you.

In Memory of Sgt. Christopher J. Lovins
Fort Campbell, KY Died April 26, 2010, Age 25

poem Author: Cindy Parkison, Christopher's aunt

Funeral Poems: 

The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier

The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier

A young man left his life one day,
To fight a war yet far away,
Fighting to let peace be known,
He thought one day
he would come home.

He left his love,
said with a smile,
"I'm coming home,
in a short while."
He never knew
his time was near,
He left to fight,
without a fear.

The scene was grey and bleak,
A win, a loss, a gain, a fall,
The fighting went on,
week after week
They wanted to end it all.

By the time the war was won,
The bloodshed over,
the battles done,
One hundred thousand,
and 16 more,
Canadians dead,
that was the score.

The brave young man
that left his love,
Was gone to face
the lord above,
His human body never found,
With poppies blowing,
there came a sound.

A service to remember them,
Who came before,
the brave young men,
A cannon booms,
a bugle sounds,
The tomb of those
whose life it crowns.

We remember with
a Tomb of Stone,
For the soldiers still unknown,
All those who fought
and died before,
And those who'll
fight in future wars.

Through many wars,
o'er many years,
Men and women looked
past their fears,
This tomb remembers
all of them,

The Tomb of
the Unknown Soldier.

By Jennifer McKay

Funeral Poems: 

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