# Suggestive programs for special day exercises/Memorial Day

​“ Let the National Flag float over every school-house in the country, and the exercises be such as shall impress upon our youth the patriotic duties of American citizens. ”
—Benjamin Harrison.
MEMORIAL DAY.
MAY THIRTY.
Note—Let the words of our National Hymn song be memorized by every pupil. It would be well if every child in school could be provided with a small flag to wave at proper moments.
TRIBUTE TO OLD GLORY.
Benjamin Harrison.
I have recently returned from an extended tour of the states, and nothing so impressed and refreshed me as the universal display of this banner of beauty and glory. It waved over the school-houses; it was in the hands of the school children. As we speeded across the sandy wastes, at some solitary place, a man, a woman, a child, would come to the door and wave it in loyal greeting. Two years ago I saw a sight that has ever been present in my memory:—
As we were going out of the harbor of Newport, about midnight on a dark night, some of the officers of the torpedo station had prepared for us a beautiful surprise. The flag at the depot station was unseen in the darkness of the night, when suddenly electric search lights were turned on it, bathing it in a flood of light. All below the flag was hidden and it seemed to have no touch with earth, but to hang from the battlements of heaven. It was as if heaven was approving the human liberty and human equality typified by that flag.
WE KEEP MEMORIAL DAY.
KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD.
When the May has culled her flowers for the summer waiting long.
And the breath of early roses woos the hedges into song.
Comes the throb of martial music and the banners in the street,
And the marching of the millions bearing garlands fair and sweet—
’Tis the Sabbath of the Nation, ’tis the floral feast of May!
In remembrance of our heroes
We keep Memorial Day.
They are sleeping in the valleys, they are sleeping neath the sea,
They are sleeping by the thousands till the royal reveille;
Let us know them, let us name them, let us honor one and all.
For they loved us and they saved us, springing at the bugle call;
Let us sound the song and cymbal, wreathe the immortelles and bay.
In the fervor of thanksgiving
We keep Memorial Day.
WITH TENDERNESS IN OUR HEARTS, LET US REMEMBER.
BY MRS. ELIZABETH A. TURNER, NATIONAL PRESIDENT OF THE W. R. C.
Spring, with her sunshine and showers, has lifted the wintry mantle from Mother Earth and bid the buds and blossoms come forth in all their fragrance and beauty to fill the outstretched hands of the Union veterans, who, with their sweet spirit of fraternity, will place them above the last resting places of their comrades-in-arms that sleep in the City of Peace—whose boundaries extend from ocean to ocean, from the mountains to the gulf. With tenderness in our hearts let us remember those who sleep where no loving hands can bear them a garland of memory. But whether their requiems be sung by the restless waves of the ocean or by the sighing winds through the Southern pines, they are all on God's roll call; he knows them all. He covers the Southland with his choicest verdure, and plants with lavish hand the wild flowers among its grasses. He bids the song birds thrill their sweetest notes in out-of-the-way places. So, throughout the year, every day is God's Decoration Day for those that sleep where they fell.
We should signify by our presence at the Sunday services preceding Memorial Day that whatever is of interest to the Grand Army of the Republic claims our attention and respect.
Let us stand ready with willing hearts and hands to render the comrades every assistance that they may require of us on Memorial Day — whether it be to weave the laurel and the pine into chaplets for our heroes dead or to make glad the day for our heroes living—let all be done quietly as befits a day hallowed by tender associations.
Remember the graves of the nurses that may be in your midst—by their presence in the hospitals they gave back to many homes the sunshine instead of the shadow. Do not forget those that will no longer respond to our greetings in our own halls, but have laid down to rest with life's burdens for a pillow. Gather the children together to be present or to take part in the services of the day. It will be to them an exemplified lesson of patriotism; teach them the day is to be held sacred to the Grand Army of the Republic as long as courage and liberty are held sacred by the American people.
SCATTER THE FLOWERS.
ADA SIMPSON SHERWOOD.
[Air:—“Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.”]
We come with gifts of flowers sweet
For each dear soldier’s grave;
We’ll cover the mounds where they gently sleep,
Those boys so true and brave.
Chorus:—
Many are the boys who are sleeping for aye
Under the sod and dew;
Many are the hearts sending love today
To those brave boys in blue.
Scatter the flowers, scatter the flowers.
Over the soldiers’ graves.
Scatter the flowers, scatter the flowers.
Over the soldiers’ graves.
We’ll honor the graves of our soldiers dead,
Who heard their country’s cry.
Who left their homes and fought and bled
And died for liberty.
We’ll bring them today the violets blue,
And roses red and white.
Those colors bright they bore so true,
For God and home and right.
THE BANNER OF THE UNION.
[Air: “ Marching Through Georgia ”]
Bring the good old banner, boys, the flag our fathers bore,
Let it float across the land and shimmer on the shore,
Liberty is marching on to many conquests more,
Bearing the banner of the Union.
Chorus.—Hurrah! hurrah! we’ll bring the jubilee;
Hurrah I hurrah! the flag that makes us free;
So we'll sing the chorus of truth and liberty,
Bearing the banner of the Union.
How the nation thundered when that flag was menaced long.
How the boys enlisted and the girls grew bold and strong.
How the hosts of victory triumphant swept along.
Bearing the banner of the Union.
Rally ’round the colors, boys, and keep them at the fore,
Take your stand for liberty and fight her battles o’er,
True to home and freedom, ever loyal to the core,
Bearing the banner of the Union.
Written for the Acme Haversack by Kate Brownlee Sherwood.
THE SOLDIERS KEPT IN REMEMBRANCE.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears. It was your son, but now he is the nation’s. He made your household bright: now his example inspires a thousand households. Dear to his brothers and sisters, he is now brother to every generous youth in the land. Before, he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you; now he is augmented, set free, given to all. Before he was yours; he is ours. He has died from the family that he might live to the nation. Not one name shall be forgotten or neglected: and it shall by and by be confessed of our modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero, that he did more for his country by his death than by his whole life.
Neither are they less honored who shall bear through life the marks of wounds and sufferings. Neither epaulette nor badge is so honorable as wounds received in a good cause. Many a man shall envy him who henceforth limps. So strange is the transforming power of patriotic ardor, that men shall almost covet disfigurement. Crowds will give way to hobbling cripples. and uncover in the presence of feebleness and helplessness. And buoyant children shall pause in their noisy games and, with loving reverence, honor those whose hands can work no more and whose feet are no longer able to march except upon that journey which brings good men to honor and immortality.
Oh, mother of lost children! Sit not in darkness, nor sorrow, whom a nation honors. Oh, mourners of the early dead! They shall live again and live forever. Your sorrows are our gladness. The nation lives because you gave it men that loved it better than their own lives. And when a few more days shall have cleared the perils from around the Nation’s brow, and she shall sit in unsullied garments of liberty, with justice upon her forehead, love in her eyes, and truth upon her lips,—she shall not forget those whose blood gave vital currents to her heart, and whose life, given to her. shall live with her life till time shall be no more.
Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured name, every river shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake shall cherish its honored register; and till the mountains are worn out and the rivers forget to flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs and the springs forget to gush and the rills to sing, shall their names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are inscribed upon the book of National Remembrance.
WHAT CAN CHILDREN DO?
BY LAURA F. ARMITAGE.
First child— What can the little children do,
When Decoration Day is here,
To show their love for soldiers brave
Who, fighting for their country, gave
The life that was to them so dear?
Second child—
We’ll bring the lovely flowers of spring
That in the fields and gardens grow,
And on the soldiers’ graves today
Our garlands we will gladly lay,
Our loving thoughts of them to show.
Third child—
We’ll raise aloft the “stars and stripes” On this Memorial Day, to show
We honor those who for it bled.
Some now are living, many dead,
For this was many years ago.
Fourth child—
We’ll sing our patriotic songs;
We’ll truly sing with heart and voice.
And to our country we’ll be true.
And honor our “red, white, and blue,”
And in our freedom we'll rejoice.
—Journal of Education
A FLAG EXERCISE.
(For the smallest ones.)
Holding the Flag:
1st. This is our Flag, and may it wave
Wide over land and sea!
Though others love a different flag,
This is the flag for me.
Concert Recitation:
And that's the flag for all our land.
We will revere no other:
And he who loves the symbol fair,
Shall be to us a brother.
2d. America’s the land we love,
Our broad, fair land so free:
And schoolmates, whereso’er I go.
This is the flag for me.
(Repeat concert recitation.)
3d. These glorious stars and radiant stripes,
With youthful joy I see;
May no rude hand its beauty mar!
This is the flag for me.
(Repeat concert recitation.)
—The Intelligence.
Note.—Provide three small flags for use in this exercise and drill on waving in unison during the concert recital.
MEMORIAL DAY.
We deck your graves with flowers today,
O comrades brave and true!
In token of the love we bear,
Our offerings round we strew.
—Henry A. Lavely.
EMBLEMS OF DECORATION DAY.
BY WILLIAM WOODMAN.
ALL HAIL “ OLD GLORY!”
PROF. GEO. W. WAITE, SUP’T OF SCHOOLS, OBERLIN, O.
[Air:—“Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.”]
All hail! starry flag of the nation,
The boast of the brave and the free;
We hail thee with glad acclamation, Our hearts and our hopes are with thee.
Yes, peerless on land and the ocean;
Revered by the loyal and true;
We hail thee with steadfast devotion—
Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!   Chorus:⊣:Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!:||
Our Old Glory banner, forever!
Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!   In days when the war cry resounded,
When Liberty’s name was assailed,
Thy foes were full often confounded.
Thy cause, glorious banner prevailed.
The century past chants thy praises,
And when brightly shall dawn every new,
Each son of Columbia raises
Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!
Thy prestige shall check insurrection,  Whoever shall lift up the hand; Thy name shall give ample protection,  The length and the' breadth of the land. The bonds that enslave shall be broken,  Wherever thy folds are in view, Proud flag! thou art Liberty’s token—  Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!
Thy fame shall grow bright with the ages,  While cycles of years roll along, To cheer when humanity wages  Its conflicts with manifold wrong. Our children shall cherish thy story,  Their children thy praises renew. Till nations unborn share thy glory—  Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!
If e’er to the ordeal of battle,  Pair Freedom shall issue her call, ’Mid cannon and musketry’s rattle,  No star from thy azure shall fall. Shall freemen desert thee? No never!  We pledge here our fealty anew, The star-spangled Banner forever—  Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!
LONG WAVE OUR FLAG.
BY COMRADE E. W. FOSTER. WRITTEN FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF BOSTON.
[Air: “Old Folks at Home.”]
Come, let us join in glad hosanna,  Earnest and clear; Greeting with songs our lovely banner.  Pride of our country dear. Praise to the brave who, nobly daring  On land and sea, Gave their heroic lives in sharing  All for the flag of the free.
Chorus:—See aloft its colors gleaming,  Bright as morning dew! Far up the heights of glory streaming—  Long wave the Red, White, and Blue! Hail we the sign and sacred token  Our fathers gave That faith in freedom is not broken  Long as the flag shall wave. Then guard with life their trust confiding;  Hold it secure! Never our love for it be hiding,—  Only the brave shall endure!
If hate or envy come designing  Our flag to mar,— With loyal hearts and arms combining,  They shall not hurt one star! Thus, while we heed with true devotion  Our flag's command. So will it wave from peak to ocean,  Proud of its own native land.
MEANING OF THE COLORS.
(From Shedd’s Special Day Exercises.)
First pupil—
Red, from the leaves of the autumn woods,
On our frost-kissed northern hills;
Red, to show that patriot blood
Is beating now in a hurrying flood
In the hearts of American men.
Second pupil—
White, from the fields of stainless drift.
On our wide, western plains;
White, to show that, as pure as snow,-
We believe the Christ-light yet shall glow
In the souls of American men.
Third pupil—
Blue, from the arch of the winter sky.
O’er our fatherland outspread;
Blue to show that as wide as heaven.
Shall justice to all mankind be given,
At the hands of American men.
All together—
Red, White, and Blue, and the light of stars,
Through our holy colors shine;
Love, Truth, and Justice, virtues three.
That shall bloom in the land of liberty,
In the homes of American men.
HOW THEY CAME BACK FROM THE WAR.
T. DEWITT TALMAGE.
I never realized what this country was and is, as on the day when I first saw some of these gentlemen of the army and navy. It was when, at the close of the war, our armies came back and marched in review before the President’s stand at Washington. I do not care whether a man was a republican or a democrat, a Northern man or a Southern man, if he had any emotion of nature he could not look upon it without weeping. God knew that the day was stupendous, and he cleared the heavens of cloud and mist and chill, and sprung the blue sky as a triumphal arch for the returning warrior’s to pass under. From Arlington Heights the spring foliage shook out its welcome as the hosts came over the hills, and the sparkling waters of the Potomac tossed their gold to the feet of the battalions as they came to the Long Bridge and in an almost interminable line passed over. The Capitol never seemed so majestic as that morning, snowy white, looking down upon the tides of men that came surging down, billow after billow. Passing in silence, yet I heard in every step the thunder of conflicts through which they had waded, and seemed to see dripping from their smoke-blackened flags the blood of our country’s martyrs. For the best part of two days we stood and watched the filing on of what seemed endless battalions, brigade after brigade, division after division, host after host, rank beyond rank; ever moving, ever passing; marching—tramp, tramp, tramp—thousands after thousands, battery front, arms shouldered, columns solid, shoulder to shoulder, wheel to wheel, charger to charger, nostril to nostril.
Commanders on horses whose manes were entwined with roses and necks enchained with garlands, fractious at the shouts that ran along the line, increasing from the clapping of children clothed in white standing on the steps of the Capitol, to the tumultuous vociferation of hundreds of thousands of enraptured multitudes, crying Huzza! Huzza I Gleaming muskets, thundering parks of artillery, rumbling pontoon ​wagons, ambulances from whose wheels seemed to sound out the groans of the crushed and the dying that they had carried. These men came from balmy Minnesota, those from Illinois prairies. These were often hummed to sleep by the pines of Oregon, those were New England lumbermen. Those came out of the coal-shafts of Pennsylvania. Side by side, in one great cause, consecrated through fire and storm and darkness, brothers in peril on the way home from Chancellorsville, Kenesaw Mountain, and Fredericksburg, in lines that seemed infinite they passed on.
We gazed and wept and wondered, lifting up our heads to see if the end had come; but no! looking from one end of that long avenue to the other, we saw them yet in solid column, battery front, host beyond host, wheel to wheel, charger to charger, nostril to nostril, coming as it were from under the Capitol. Forward! Forward! Their bayonets caught in the sun, glimmered and flashed and blazed, till they seemed, like one long river of silver, ever and anon changed into a river of fire. No end to the procession, no rest for the eyes. We turned our heads from the scene, unable longer to look. We felt disposed to stop our ears, but still we heard it, marching, marching—tramp, tramp, tramp! But hush—uncover every head I Here they pass, the remnant of ten men of a full regiment. Silence! Widowhood and orphanage look on, and wring their hands. But wheel into line; all ye people! North, South, East, West—all decades, all centuries, all milleniums. Forward, the whole line! Huzza! Huzza!
OUR LOYAL WOMEN.
PROF. LONG.
There were silent factors in that war—heroes whose fame it is not the custom to sing—soldiers outside the ranks who never bore arms and yet bore all the burdens of war, soldiers as much beloved by those in front, and more than the commander-in-chief himself, and whose sympathy and courage and work in the war was a strong support and aid in its successful issue—I allude to our loyal women. God only knows what they suffered and did it how nobly!
When the time of parting came, who can measure the anguish of that last good-by? Who can estimate the courage of the wife who held bravely back the feelings of grief as her trembling lips spoke to her loved companion her last words of cheer, and held aloft the babe to wave farewell—perhaps eternal, as he turned on the hill-top to take one more look—perhaps his last.
When the husbands and fathers and brothers were away in danger, down in the camp in wood and swamp and field, she, with a power of body and mind unthought of, raised the crops and cared for the family, laboring under the constant dread lest the next mail that came from the lines would tell of the death of her loved one. Their letters from home, full of tenderness, of love and cheer, nerved the arm and fired the heart to noble deeds. The sister that did the part of brothers, the wife that did the double duty of provider and protector, the “girl you left behind you,” whose white hands were nightly folded in prayer to the God of Battle for your safety and return, the mother who willingly, yet sadly, gave the boys on whom she looked with pride, — must be counted among our heroes and receive our homage.
I have heard men speak with pride of the Spartan mother who sent forth her son saying,—“Come back with your shield or upon it,” and who rejoiced when her son fell in battle; but I point with higher pride to the noble American mother who shed tears as she bade her boy good-bye, and who. all excited and pale, looked over the lists of killed and wounded after each battle and, finding her son’s name there, sank despairing to the floor. But womenrsquo;s work was not wholly at home. What soldier will forget the sanitary commission and Christian commission, of which the best eulogy is simply to name. What soldier will forget that the old grandmothers and the girls sat up all night to knit socks, and make shirts and mittens, and send them by carloads down to the boys in blue on Southern battle-fields, with a voiceless prayer and fervent “God bless you” in every one.
What power can conquer the nation where every man and boy, and every woman and girl will throw themselves between their flag and its enemy! Let the future come with its responsibility and its trial. With such men to fight our battles and build up national strength, and such women to support and build up home and its childhood, who or what can overthrow us, if we but hold to the Union?
MUSTERED OUT.
BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
“A soldier of the Union mustered out,”
Is the inscription of an unknown grave
At Newport News, beside the salt sea wave,
Nameless and dateless ; sentinel or scout
Shot down in skirmish or disastrous rout
Of battle, when the loud artillery drave
Its iron wedges through the ranks of brave
And doomed battalions, storming the redoubt.
Thou unknown hero sleeping by the sea
In thy forgotten grave—with secret shame
I feel my pulses beat, my forehead burn,
When I remember thou hast given for me
All that thou hast, thy life, thy very name.
And I can give thee nothing in return!
COVER THEM OVER.
WILL CARLETON.
Cover them over with beautiful flowers;
Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours;
Lying so silent, by night and by day,
Sleeping the years of their manhood away;
Years they had marked for the joys of the brave,
Years they must waste in the sloth of the grave.
All the bright laurels that promised to bloom
Fell to the earth when they went to the tomb.
Give them the meed they have won in the past;
Give them the honors their merits forecast;
Give them the chaplets they won in the strife;
Give them the laurels they lost with their life.
Cover them over—yes, cover them over—
Parent and husband and brother and lover;
Crown in your heart these dead heroes of ours,
And cover them over with beautiful flowers!
Cover the faces that motionless lie.
Shut from the blue of the glorious sky;
Faces once lighted with smiles of the gay— Faces now marred by the frown of decay;
Eyes that beamed friendship and love to your own,
Lips that sweet thoughts of affection made known,
Brows you have soothed in the day of distress,
Cheeks you have flushed by the tender caress;
Faces that brightened at war’s stirring cry.
Faces that streamed when they bade you good-by;
Faces that glowed in the battle’s red flame,
Paling for naught till the Death Angel came.
Cover them over—yes, cover them over— Parent and husband and brother and lover;
Kiss in your hearts these dead heroes of ours,
And cover them over with beautiful flowers.
Cover the hands that are resting, half-tired,
Crossed on the bosom or low by the side;
Hands to you, mother, in infancy thrown;
Hands that you, father, close hid in your own;
Hands where you, sister, when tried and dismayed,
Hung for protection and counsel and aid;
Hands that you, brother, for faithfulness knew;
Hands that you, wife, wrung in bitter adieu.
Bravely the cross of their country they bore,
Words of devotion they wrote with their gore;
Grandly they grasped for a garland of light,
Catching the mantle of death-darkened night.
Cover them over—yes, cover them over—
Parent and husband and brother and lover;
Clasp in your hearts these dead heroes of ours,
And cover them over with beautiful flowers.
Cover the feet that, all weary and torn.
Thither by comrades were tenderly borne;
Feet that have trodden, through love-lighted ways,
Near to your own in the old happy days;
Feet that have pressed, in life&rsqquo;s opening morn,
Roses of pleasure and Death’s poisoned thorn.
Swiftly they rushed to the help of the right.
Firmly they stood in the shock of the fight;
Ne’er shall the enemy’s hurrying tramp
Summon them forth from their death-guarded camp,
Ne’er till Eternity’s bugle shall sound.
Will they come out from their couch in the ground.
Cover them over—yes, cover them over— Parent and husband and brother and lover;
Rough were the paths of those heroes of ours—
Now cover them over with beautiful flowers.   Cover the hearts that have beaten so high,
Beaten with hopes that were born but to die;
Hearts that have burned in the heat of the fray,
Hearts that have yearned for the homes far away,
Hearts that beat high in the charge's loud tramp,
Hearts that low fell in the prison's foul damp.
Once they were swelling with courage and will,
Now they are lying all pulseless and still;
Once they were glowing with friendship and love.
Now their great souls have gone soaring above;
Bravely their blood to the nation they gave.
Then in their bosom they found them a grave.
Cover them over—yes, cover them over—
Parent and husband and brother and lover;
Press to your hearts these dead heroes of ours,
And cover them over with beautiful flowers.   One there is sleeping in yonder low tomb.
Worthy the brightest of flow’rets that bloom.
Weakness of womanhood’s life was her part.
Tenderly strung was her generous heart.
Bravely she stood by the sufferer’s side.
Checking the pain and the life-bearing tide;
Fighting the swift-sweeping phantom of Death,
Easing the dying man’s fluttering breath;
Then, when the strife that had nerved her was o’er,
Calmly she went to where wars are no more.
Voices have blessed her, now silent and dumb;
Voices will bless her in long years to come.
Cover her over—yes, cover her over—
Blessings, like angels, around her shall hover;
Cherish the name of that sister of ours.
And cover her over with beautiful flowers.
Cover the thousands who sleep far away— Sleep where their friends cannot ﬁnd them today; They who in mountain and hill-side and dell Rest where they wearied and lie where they fell. Softly the grass blade creeps ’round their repose, Sweetly above them the wild flow’ret blows; Zephyrs of freedom fly gently o’erhead, Whispering names for the patriot dead. So in our minds we will name them once more, So in our hearts we will cover them o’er: Roses and lilies and violets blue, Bloom in our souls for the brave and the true. Cover them over—yes. cover them over— Parent and husband and brother and lover; Think of those far-away heroes of ours, And cover them over with beautiful ﬂowers.
When the long years have crept slowly away, E’en to the dawn of Earth’s funeral day: When. at the Archangel‘s trumpet and tread, Rise up the faces and terms of the dead; When the great world its last judgment awaits, When the blue sky shall swing open its gates, And our long columns march silently through, Past the Great Captain. for ﬁnal review,— Then for the blood that has flown for the right, Crowns shall be given, untarnished and bright. Then the glad ear of each war-martyred son Proudly shall hear the good judgment, “well done.” Blessings for garlands shall cover them over— Parent and husband and brother and lover; God will reward those dead heroes of ours, And cover them over with beautiful flowers.
PATRIOTIC TRAINING IN OUR SCHOOLS.
(From the Department)
All business should be suspended and the day devoted to commemorating the memory of the union soldiers living and dead. Let the citizens turn out and make the day one long to be remembered as it day of patriotic education
Let not the sacredness and solemnity of the occasion be marred by games and other sports, but let us all consecrate ourselves anew at a common shrine of patriotism. We believe with James W. Patterson that “If all our youth, springing up from whatever nationality, could be brought to know and reflect upon the origin, history and nature of our political institutions, and were early made to realize their cost in treasure and blood and the unspeakable benefits they have conferred upon the American people, we should have the unity and strength of public spirit, and the sensibility to the common reputation and interests that would be stronger than the pride of dominion and a surer defense than armies and navies.”
Let the rising generation be inspired with an ardent love for their country, an unquenchable thirst for liberty, and a profound reverence for the Constitution and the Union. Let the American youth never forget that they possess a noble inheritance bought by the toils and suffer- ings and blood of their ancestors.
—Story.
​ Keep fresh in the hearts of the rising generation a reverence for the ’Stars and Stripes‘—— the only Flag. —Gen. John Palmer.
EVOLUTION OF THE FLAG.
By courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Goff, authors of “The United States and Her Neighbors.” (From School Education, 1895.)