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On May 30, 1868, General John A. Logan of the Grand Army of the Republic proclaimed the first major observance to honor those who died “in defense of their country during the late rebellion.” Known to some as “Decoration Day,” mourners honored the Civil War dead by decorating their graves with flowers.
On that first wide-spread Decoration Day, Ohio Congressman James A. Garfield, who had served as a Major General in the war, made a speech at Arlington National Cemetery, in
which he said:
…With words we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept; plighted faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke; but we do know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their patriotism and their virtue. For the noblest man that lives, there still remains a conflict. He must still withstand the assaults of time and fortune, must still be assailed with temptations, before which lofty natures have fallen; but with these the conflict ended, the victory was won, when death stamped on them the great seal of heroic character, and closed a record which years can never blot…
A crowd of 5,000 heard him speak, and then decorated the graves of the more than 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers buried in the cemetery.
By the late 19th century, many communities across America celebrated Memorial Day. After World War I, the dead from all of America’s wars were being honored. In 1971, Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday to be celebrated the last Monday in May.
Memorial Day is now marked at Arlington National Cemetery by the placing of a small American flag on each grave.
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Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay Pierce —
by the very Press Of Imagery —
Their far Parades — order on the eye
With a mute Pomp —
A pleading Pageantry —
Flags, are a brave sight —
But no true Eye
Ever went by One —
Steadily —
Music’s triumphant —
But the fine Ear Winces with delight
Are Drums too near —
The Battlefield
They dropped like flakes,
they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, —
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
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