“Taps” written by Wendell Meyers – May 9th, 1968
I heard them sounding Taps today, o’er quiet fields where breezes play,
Where raindrops fall and poppies nod, where soldiers rest at peace with God
And a mother kneels to pray.
I heard the bugle call again across the fields to marching men,
Whose flashing steel and colors bright secured my land from tyrant’s might
And made the slave my friend.
For blue and gray and khaki hue, a call to arms the bugles blew,
The tramping feet on history’s trail, the victor’s cry, the mourner’s wail,
The notes recall anew. The bugle stills, the echoes sound, hushed stand the ranks on hallowed ground.
From arctic ice to jungle’s heat, men at arms, their memories meet
Above the grave’s green mound. I heard them sounding Taps today, o’er quiet fields where breezes play,
Where raindrops fall and poppies nod, where soldiers rest at peace with God,
And a nation kneels to pray.
