![](\"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/images\/052013\/0526.png\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
0526
\nTo those who served<\/p>\n
Decoration Day<\/strong> Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest Ye have slept on the ground before, But in this camp of Death All is repose and peace, Rest, comrades, rest and sleep! Your silent tents of green 0526 To those who served Decoration Day By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest On this Field of the Grounded Arms, Where foes no more molest, Nor sentry’s shot alarms! Ye have slept on the ground before, And started to your feet At the cannon’s sudden roar, Or the drum’s redoubling beat. But … Continue reading 0526<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[39,109],"class_list":["post-344","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-classic","tag-holidays","tag-thought"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/344"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=344"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/344\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":345,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/344\/revisions\/345"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=344"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=344"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=344"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nBy Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<\/p>\n
\nOn this Field of the Grounded Arms,
\nWhere foes no more molest,
\nNor sentry’s shot alarms! <\/p>\n
\nAnd started to your feet
\nAt the cannon’s sudden roar,
\nOr the drum’s redoubling beat. <\/p>\n
\nNo sound your slumber breaks;
\nHere is no fevered breath,
\nNo wound that bleeds and aches. <\/p>\n
\nUntrampled lies the sod;
\nThe shouts of battle cease,
\nIt is the Truce of God! <\/p>\n
\nThe thoughts of men shall be
\nAs sentinels to keep
\nYour rest from danger free. <\/p>\n
\nWe deck with fragrant flowers;
\nYours has the suffering been,
\nThe memory shall be ours.<\/p>\n\nTweet<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"