By Mike Davis

BN Columnist

Howdy neighbor!

This past Memorial Day, it was my special honor and pleasure to contribute a short address to our American Legion Post 67’s annual Memorial Day observance at Farragut Park on North High Street. I want to thank the Post for inviting me to come and speak, and in particular to thank all of my wonderful neighbors, readers and townsmen who turned out to give their support to the memorial service despite Monday’s lingering rain. By my last count, we stood at 40 attendees gathered there under the old maples of the park, which is an increase over last year’s count and far more than used to attend the older observances held in Post Office Square some years ago.

I am pleased to report the tradition of holding Memorial Day at Farragut Park at 11 a.m. is now well-and-truly established; I’ve been informed by our Post’s commander that the park has now been chosen as the site for Bridgton’s Memorial Day gatherings in perpetuity, rain or shine, so you can all depend upon that and put it down in your calendars for next year.

I can honestly state, as someone who has always attended these gatherings and many others like them, that this last Monday’s dedication was one of the finest memorial observances I’ve had the pleasure of attending over the course of my life. The stirring words of the Post Commander, the heartfelt prayers of the Chaplain, and the fervent Pledging of Allegiance from every face upturned to the grand old flag where it snapped on the misty breeze gave a surge of majesty and triumph to the scene which equally matched the solemn weight of grief and remembrance best expressed in the plaintive tones of Taps, the tragic lament of Flanders Fields, and the laying of the wreath with its stars of gold to the three-gun salute and plaintive tolling of the bell for each fallen veteran of Bridgton, who has gone forth in the last year to answer that final muster call of the Supreme Commander.

I was particularly pleased to hear the wisdom of retired Rear Admiral Jim Cossey, given forth shortly after the triumphant singing of God Bless America; a chorus issued in patriotic reverence from every soul in attendance, surely to include those vanished friends and family who walked “with silent tread, in felt presence only.”

And so it was a holy site we walked, as pilgrims gone forth to lay upon the altars of our forefathers the flowers of remembrance and sacred honor; to recall to life again the memory of those bygone legions who in days of old went forth to defend our homeland, who fought to preserve our freedom, and who poured out their very life’s blood to write the name America upon the page of history, from whose sacred annals their sacrifice ensures it shall never be erased.

To my part, I am very happy to now be able to share with all of our readers who may have missed last Monday’s ceremonies, my humble contribution to the day’s events. It comes in the form of a poem titled, “Memorial Day,” and it was written to honor Bridgton’s departed soldiers of the Civil War by Bridgton News writer and local historian Charles O. Stickney, himself a veteran of the war between the states, who first presented it at Bridgton’s Decoration Day services held at the South High Street cemetery on May 30, 1877. As I understand, this poem later became a fixture of our bygone Memorial Days, being published in broadside form and read annually for many years to honor our Civil War veterans. I can’t quite pin down when the tradition faded, but it seems to have been in the period between the World Wars after the last veterans of the Civil War had passed away and the local G.A.R. post disbanded. Today, only two copies are known to survive, both of which are now in the collections of the Bridgton Historical Society; and so it was my particular honor this year to help revive the practice, and more so to be able to state it will again become a regular custom of Bridgton’s Memorial Days moving forward. I have since presented a copy of Stickney’s poem to the Legion Hall, where it can be kept among their records, and I am committed to perpetuating this tradition by reading it every year for as long as I am able.

But in the interest of sharing our history more widely and also to help ensure that copies of this poem will live on in as many sets of hands as I can get it into, I have arranged to have the text of it printed here as the feature of my column this week. I’m sure all our readers who missed it will enjoy Stickney’s striking words, in which are captured the true spirit of memorial, and personally if you’re at all interested in Memorial Day, I urge you to clip it out this week and file it away somewhere safe. We came so very close to losing this local tradition; let’s all do our part then, in honoring the memory of our veterans and their contributions to local history, by helping to preserve and honor this ballad written to sing their praises, now seeing the light again 147 years after it was written and roughly a century after it was last read publicly. Enjoy!

“Memorial Day”

Well! long, eventful years have flown

Young lads to ripened manhood grown,

Since Treason’s power was overthrown

In this our honored land.

War’s dread alarms are silent now,

The sword’s succeeded by the plow,

And “peace, good-will” to former foe

Proclaimed on ev’ry hand.

What! sixteen years since Sumter fell?

So long ago? Yet need I tell

The thrilling story known so well

By those assembled here?

An olden tale, yet ever new,

Of how our gallant “boys in blue”

For Home and Country fought so true,

When all was dark and drear.

Ah! then was heard throughout the land

The war-drum’s roll — the stern command —

And battle-shout — while legions grand

Of Freedom’s mighty host,

‘Mid shot and shell, and cannon’s roar,

The dear old Flag triumphant bore,

Till gained our Ship a peaceful shore —

Our Ship so tempest-tost!

Though like a dream of troubled past,

And busy years go speeding fast,

We’ll cherish while our lives shall last,

With deep and holy pride,

The mem’ries of our gallant dead,

Who followed e’er where duty led,

And marched and suffered, fought and bled,

And nobly, bravely died.

E’en now on many a furrowed cheek

The falling tear-drops silent speak

Of him — “Our Boy” — who went to seek

A soldier, martyr grave.

And while the fires of life shall burn

The stricken heart will sadly yearn

For him who’ll never more return

In light of home to lave.

And we, who gather here to-day,

‘Mid song of birds and joys of May,

One more upon these altars lay

Rich flowers, to beautify.

And, marching on thro’ Life’s campaign,

Each year we’ll rally thus again,

To honor those who not in vain

Went forth to do — and die!

Till next time!