Anyway, every single year I think of the poem/song below all day on this day. I posted it a while back, but I'm sharing it again. It is so beautiful, and so poignant, and I think it captures the feeling of all of us that are still here among the land of the living.
**********
Well, how
do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind
if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest
for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been
walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see
by your gravestone you were only 19
When you
joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I
hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie
McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they
Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the
rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the
bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the
pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
And did you
leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some
loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though
you died back in 1916,
To that
loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you
a stranger without even a name,
Forever
enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old
photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading
to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Did they
Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the
rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the
bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the
pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
The sun's
shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm
wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The
trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and
no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in
this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
The
countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's
blind indifference to his fellow man.
And a whole
generation who were butchered and damned.
And I can't
help but wonder, now Willie McBride,
Do all
those who lie here know why they died?
Did you
really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you
really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the
suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The
killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie
McBride, it all happened again,
And again,
and again, and again, and again.
Did they
Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the
rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the
bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the
pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
-- "The
Green Fields of France"
Eric Bogle
***********
I find it even more poignant when sung, so I'm sharing my favorite version with you.