They know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?
We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,
In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,
And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breeze
Above his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.
And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,
It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—
Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,
On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.
James Whitcomb Riley.