Honoring Sacrifice and Patriotism: The True Meaning of Memorial Day in America

Memorial Day began as Decoration Day in Appalachia to honor those fallen in the War Between the States. It was expanded in 1933 to honor those who gave their lives in all wars. Today, it is a Federal Holiday observed on the last Monday in May.

I have always loved my country with all my heart.

• Love of our native land is a deep and noble mark of character

• We feel it most in times of war or separation from it.

• My father taught me this as an immigrant loving its liberty

  
  

Read and sing these poems and songs and pass them onto your son too..

Today's article is longer than usual, 3,500 words, double that of our regular blog. It is meant to be sampled and enjoyed as the emotion it stirs fills your heart.

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Patriotism is a manly virtue. It has been at the heart of every prosperous nation in history. Where patriotism is weak, the country becomes weak and will eventually fall. This happened in Rome and is now happening in the UK. Our country was greatly weakened by anti-war sentiment in the 1960s and Globalism in the last twenty years.

God has blessed England and America with His favor and given us gifted people who use beautiful language and music to encourage us to love, defend, and fight for our country. The ultimate cost is death, falling in battle, and we honor those who die protecting our liberty and keeping our country strong.

This is all beautifully expressed in this poem by Sir Walter Scott:

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,

Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!

Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d,

As home his footsteps he hath turn’d,

From wandering on a foreign strand!

If such there breathe, go, mark him well;

For him no Minstrel raptures swell;

High though his titles, proud his name,

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;

Despite those titles, power, and pelf,

The wretch, concentred all in self,

Living, shall forfeit fair renown,

And, doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,

Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung. Sir Walter Scott ((1771-1832)

Love for one's country is as old as the Bible. The children of Israel asked this question when they were taken captive into Babylon:

How Shall We Sing the Lord's Song?

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. 

We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. 

For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. 

How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a strange land? 

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. 

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy. 

Remember, O LORD, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof. 

O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us. 

Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones. 

----Psalm 137, written between 597 and 587 BC, that is in Babylon between the first deportation and the final destruction of Jerusalem and exile.

The Lord Jesus Christ* ,(4BC-30 AD) too, had such love, in 30 AD, as they crucified Him:

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! 

Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. 

For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord. - Matthew 23: 37-39

An asterisk* after a name means that person is in SPIRITUAL LIVES

An English Foudation and Heritage

1500 years later, William Shakespeare (1554-1616) wrote on a king's love of his country:

This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,

This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,

Fear’d by their breed and famous by their birth,

Renowned for their deeds as far from home,

For Christian service and true chivalry,

As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry

Of the world’s ransom, blessed Mary’s Son,

This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,

Dear for her reputation through the world,

Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,

Like to a tenement or pelting farm:

England, bound in with the triumphant sea,

Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege

Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,

With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:

That England, that was wont to conquer others,

Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.

Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,

How happy then were my ensuing death!”

― William Shakespeare, Richard II

Two hundred years later, William Blake (1757-1827) wondered

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon Englands mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:

Bring me my arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In Englands green & pleasant Land.

America Comes to Life

During these years between Shakespeare and Blake, thousands of Englishmen moved to America and founded an English-speaking country built upon the same love of home. They identified themselves as Yankees in the Revolutionary War, 1775-1783.

Yankee Doodle went to town

A-riding on a pony,

Stuck a feather in his cap

And called it macaroni.

[Chorus]

Yankee Doodle keep it up,

Yankee Doodle dandy,

Mind the music and the step,

And with the girls be handy.

Father and I went down to camp,

Along with Captain Gooding,

And there we saw the men and boys

As thick as hasty pudding.

 [Chorus]

 Yankee Doodle keep it up,

 Yankee Doodle dandy,

 Mind the music and the step,

 And with the girls be handy.

----Anonymous , 1770s

We loved this song in my elementary school, where we marched around the jungle gym singing and being proud to be Yankees. Out of all these poems and songs, this is the only one that is purposefully irreverant. Love of country is a solemn and sacred theme.

England was not satisfied with her colonies' independence, and another war, the War of 1812, began, and its outcome sealed the United States as a power in the world. Out of this conflict rose our national anthem:

The Star-Spangled Banner

1 O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

O say, does that star spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

2 O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!

Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued land

Praise the Pow'r that has made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto, "In God is our trust."

And the star spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

---Francis Scott Key,(1779-1843( 1814

Life went on in both America and England prosperously, and Robert Browning wrote,

Oh, to be in England

Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England—now!

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children's dower

—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

-----Robert Browning (1812-1889)

Those pleasant days were to change drastically in April of 1861 when a great war broke out as the Southern States broke away to form an independent confederacy. These two entities fought a bitter war from 1961 to 1865, each marching to a different song:

The Battle Hymn of the Republic

1 Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;

His truth is marching on.

Refrain:

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

His truth is marching on.

2 I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read the righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;

His day is marching on. [Refrain]

3 He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of all before His judgment seat;

O be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on. [Refrain]

4 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;

As He died to make us holy, let us die to make men free,

while God is marching on. [Refrain]

---Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910) --1862

The Southerners sang:

I wish I was in the land of cotton,

Old times there are not forgotten;

Look away!  Look away!  Look away!  Dixie Land.

In Dixie’s Land where I was born in,

Early on one frosty mornin,

Look away!  Look away!  Look away!  Dixie Land.

I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray!  Hooray!

In Dixie’s Land I’ll take my stand

to live and die in Dixie.

Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Daniel Decatur Emmett (1815-1904) -1859

More than 600,000 men lost their lives during this war, and one emigrant woman wrote this moving piece:

Somebody's Darling

by Marie La Coste (1835-1946)

One of the best-loved of all Confederate songs, this poem was written by Marie Ravenal de la Coste, the daughter of French parents who had emigrated to Savannah, Georgia. Marie taught French but was inspired to try her hand at poetry when her fiancé, a captain in the Confederate Army, was killed in combat.

After his death, Marie made a practice of visiting wounded soldiers in Savannah's hospitals, bringing them flowers and fruit and keeping them company. She composed these moving verses about the loss of a loved one in battle after seeing an unidentified young soldier with a fatal wound brought into the ward where she was visiting.

INTO A WARD of the whitewashed walls

Where the dead and the dying lay—

Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls—

Somebody's darling was borne one day.

Somebody's darling! so young and so brave,

Wearing still on his pale, sweet face—

Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave—

The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold,

Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;

Pale are the lips of delicate mould—

Somebody's darling is dying now.

Back from the beautiful blue-veined face

Brush every wandering, silken thread;

Cross his hands as a sign of grace—

Somebody's darling is still and dead!

Kiss him once for Somebody's sake;

Murmur a prayer, soft and low;

One bright curl from the cluster take—

They were Somebody's pride, you know.

Somebody's hand hath rested there;

Was it a mother's, soft and white?

And have the lips of a sister fair

Been baptized in those waves of light?

God knows best. He was Somebody's love!

Somebody's heart enshrined him here;

Somebody wafted his name above,

Night and morn, on the wings of prayer.

Somebody wept when he marched away,

Looking so handsome, brave, and grand;

Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay;

Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's watching and waiting for him,

Yearning to hold him again to her heart;

There he lies—with the blue eyes dim,

And smiling, childlike lips apart.

Tenderly bury the fair young dead,

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;

Carve on the wooden slab at his head,

“Somebody's darling lies buried here!”

I weep as I read, for those who died, and for those who loved them. For those who survived, there was a different tune:

When Johnny Comes Marching Home

Words and Music by Louis Lambert (1829 -1892) 1863

When Johnny comes marching home again,

              Chorus: Hurrah, hurrah!

We'll give him a hearty welcome then

              Chorus: Hurrah, hurrah!

The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

The ladies, they will all turn out

              Chorus: And we'll all feel gay

              When Johnny comes marching home.

About twenty years after the boys came marching home, a Colorado woman wrote the song that is the most descriptive of our land:

America the Beautiful,

1893,

• O beautiful for spacious skies,

  For amber waves of grain,

  For purple mountain majesties

  Above the fruited plain!

  
  

  America! America!

  God shed his grace on thee

  And crown thy good with brotherhood

  From sea to shining sea!

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O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Whose stern, impassioned stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness!

America! America!

God mend thine every flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

WThy liberty in law!

• O beautiful for heroes proved

  In liberating strife,

  Who more than self their country loved

  And mercy more than life!

  
  

  America! America!

  May God thy gold refine

  Till all success be nobleness

  And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears!America! America!

God shed his grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

Katherine Lee Bates (1859-1929)

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World War I began without America (1914-1918), but the United States joined the Allies in 1917. This was the soldier's favorite song:

Over ThereOver There

by George M. Cohan (1878-1942)

Johnnie, get your gun,

Get your gun, get your gun,

Take it on the run,

On the run, on the run.

Hear them calling, you and me,

Everyone for liberty.

Hurry right away,

No delay, start today.

Make your daddy glad

To have had such a lad.

Tell your sweetheart not to pine,

To be proud her boy’s in line.

Chorus:

Over there, over there,

Send the word, send the word over there—

That the Yanks (after v. 2: Sammys) are coming,

The Yanks (Sammys) are coming,

The drums rum-tumming

Ev’rywhere.

So prepare, say a pray’r,

Send the word, send the word to beware.

We’ll be over, we’re coming over,

And we won’t come back till it’s over

Over there.

Johnnie, get your gun,

Get your gun, get your gun,

Johnnie show the Hun

You’re a son of a gun.

Hoist the flag and let her fly,

Yankee Doodle do or die.

Pack your little kit,

Show your grit, do your bit.

Yankee to the ranks,

From the towns and the tanks.

Make your mother proud of you,

And the old Red, White and blue --1917

The allies won the war, but millions did not make it. A Canadian doctor wrote this poem for a friend who was killed in the war

In Flanders Fields

By John McCrae. (1872-1918) 1919

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.

"God Bless America."

In the fall of 1938, as fascism and war threatened Europe, Irving Berlin (1888-1989)

decided to write a peace song. He recalled an unpublished version of a song that he had set aside in a trunk, took it out, and shaped it into a second national anthem, "God Bless America."

"While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer. "

God Bless America,

Land that I love.

Stand beside her, and guide her

Thru the night with a light from above.

From the mountains, to the prairies,

To the oceans, white with foam

God bless America, My home sweet home.

The Second World War started shortly after Berlin wrote his son, and armies, navies, and air forces engaged. In 1942, the United States authorized this hymn writer, whose identity is unknown.

The Marine Hymn

“From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli;ttles

In the air, on land, and sea;

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marine.

Our flag’s unfurled to every breeze

From dawn to setting sun;

We have fought in ev’ry clime and place

Where we could take a gun;

In the snow of far-off Northern lands

And in sunny tropic scenes;

You will find us always on the job

The United States Marines

Here’s health to you and to our Corps

Which we are proud to serve;

In many a strife we’ve fought for life

And never lost our nerve;

If the Army and the Navy

Ever look on Heaven’s scenes;

They will find the streets are guarded

By United States Marines.”

This Land Is Your Land

- 1944

This land is your land, this land is my land

From California to the New York island,

From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters;

This land was made for you and me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway

I saw above me that endless skyway;

I saw below me that golden valley;

This land was made for you and me.

I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps

To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;

And all around me a voice was sounding;

This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,

And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,

As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:

This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking, I saw a sign there,

And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."

But on the other side it didn't say nothing.

That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,

By the relief office I seen my people;

As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking

Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,

As I go walking that freedom highway;

Nobody living can ever make me turn back

This land was made for you and me.

------Words and Music by Woody Guthrie (1912-1967

Soldier Boy

---Song by The Shirelles ‧ 1962

Oh, my little soldier boy,

I'll be true to you.

You were my first love

And you'll be my last love.

I will never make you blue.

I'll be true to you.

In this whole world

You can love but one girl.

Let me be that one girl,

For I'll be true to you.

Wherever you go,

My heart will follow.

I love you so.

I'll be true to you.

Take my love with you

To any port or foreign shore.

Darling, you must feel for sure,

I'll be true to you.

Soldier boy,

Oh, my little soldier boy,

I'll be true to you.

Song writers: Luther Dixon (1931-2009) and Florence Greenberg (1913-1995)

God Bless the USA

And I'm proud to be an American

where at least I know I'm free

And I won't forget the men who died,

who gave that right to me

And I'd gladly stand up next to you

and defend her still today

'Cause there ain't no doubt

I love this land (I love this land)

God bless the USA!

---Lee Greenwood, (1942- ) 1983

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As you read this article, rejoice in your homeland and the love that springs up in your heart.

This is the Afflatus that fills us with holy power.

God bless us all as we honor our country and those who died for her long ago and defend her still today.