(A Memorial Day Sonnet.)
BY (REV.) JOSEPH C. BOOTH.
Their ranks are thinning, with the passing years,
And soon the bugle call will rouse no more
The men who fought for us in fields of gore!
The remnant of the brave, without compeers,
Are worthy of our patriotic cheers
And floral crowns. Let us, as ne'er before,
Bestow our honors on the men who bore
Our burdens and destroyed our brooding fears.
Upon the silent graves, with veteran hands,
The flowers of comradeship are gently laid;
While "Glory" its entrancing folds display.
This heaven-born custom, in my judgment, stands
Uniquely grand! May it the world pervade,
Till every nation holds "Memorial Day!"
Troy Times. May 29, 1917