Ye have slept on the ground before,
And started to your feet
At the cannon's sudden roar,
Or the drum's redoubling beat.The Day of Memories!—Remembering what?
The cannon's roar, the hissing of the shot?
The weary hospital, the prison pen?
The widow's tears, the groans of stalwart men?
The bitterness of fratricidal strife?
The pangs of death, the sharper pangs of life?
Nay, let us quite forget the whole of these
Upon our sacred Day of Memories.
by Amos Russel Wells