Memorial Day
is
Everyday

On this day many will have the day off work.
Many will make a weekend of picnicing and partying.
Please remember why you really have this day off work.
Almost every city in the U.S. will be having a memorial in
rememberance of the men and women
 that lost their lives. Go and be part of this memorable moment.
Shake the hand of that veteran standing next to you.

Look God

 Prairie Ridge 'Main Index' Page

 Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund

 World War I - Trenches on the Web

 Korean War Veterans' Memorial Homepage



The Soldier's Grave
Oh, stranger tread lightly 'tis holy ground here.
In death's cold embrace the soldier sleepeth here;
On the red field of battle my brave comrade died,
And his last smile I caught as I knelt by his side.
Yes, his lips wore a smile, and he fear'd not to die,
And his ear caught the shout as it rose to the sky.
"Thank God!" said the soldier, as smiling he died.
"The vict'ry is ours!" his comrade cried,

With hearts full of grief we stood 'round his bier,
And each soldier's eye was moist with a tear;
And with sad, solemn step we marched to his grave,
And o'er our brave brother our flag we did wave.
Yes, slowly and sadly we waved a farewell,
Tho' his spirit already in heav'nly realms did dwell;
But his body we tearfully lower'd 'neath there,
And the heart of the soldier did send forth a pray'r.
May God help his mother the sad blow to bear,
May God help the widow of him who lies 'neath here;
May He guard the orphans whose little hearts grieve,
Then stranger, tread lightly, 'tis holy ground here,
That there's no more a father's fond kiss shall receive.

In death's cold embrace, the soldier sleepeth there;
 'Tis the grave of the hero 'neath the grass cover'd sod,
 His spirit's in Heaven, at home with its God!
(author unknown)

God Bless America


I watched the flag pass by one day.
  It fluttered in the breeze
  A young Marine saluted it, and then
  He stood at ease.

  I looked at him in uniform
  So young, so tall, so proud
  With hair cut square and eyes alert
  He'd stand out in any crowd.

  I thought, how many men like him
  Had fallen through the years?
  How many died on foreign soil?
  How many mothers' tears?
  How many Pilots' planes shot down?
  How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
  No, Freedom is not free.

  I heard the sound of taps one night,
  When everything was still.
  I listened to the bugler play
  And felt a sudden chill.

  I wondered just how many times
  That taps had meant "Amen"
  When a flag had draped a coffin
  of a brother or a friend.

  I thought of all the children,
  Of the mothers and the wives,
  Of fathers, sons and husbands
  With interrupted lives.

  I thought about a graveyard
  at the bottom of the sea
  Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
  No, Freedom isn't free!!

  God Bless America


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