A Remberance of Memorial Day
Robert P. Tristam Coffin was a native son of Harpswell, a professor of English at Bowdoin College and winner of the pulitzer Prize for Poetry. The following is a poem from his volume called "Strange Holiness" Published by the MacMillan Company in 1936
Memorial Day
These people, washed and in their best, who tread These graves walk for the living, not the dead; They go between the starred and blazing flags, Which in a week of sunshine will be rags, On errands that the dead, six feet below, Would have to cross a universe to know; There is no pity in them, only life.
A husband leans and listens to his wife Because his future sons are in her power. A widow rises from her watered flower, Full of delicious achings of her heart. A father stands with robust thighs apart And glows to feel how wives beside his own Might have enjoyed the good seed he has sown And envey his wife her lusty sons who bend And wrestle on the grave mound of a friend. Young men's eyes and girl's eyes meet and kiss And plan another crowd as bright as this. A mother in her black dress for the day Stoops and wipes the candy stain away On a three-year cherub full of heat And beauty gone forever from the feet That came to his creation beautiful Upon the mountains. Children tug and pull At each other's arms and legs and smother The tingling, rhythmed bodies of each other With a force that travels from the sun But cannot go six feet through earth to one Of all who lie with crossed and useless hands.
Everyone who walks, or runs, or stands Among these very evident white stones Believes no more the existence of cold bones Than mayflies newly born believe in night, But feed upon the holy bread of light And turns and treads in lovliness and lust Upon the utter fable of the dust.
Orrs Island Graveyard
Gertrude Robinson was a longtime resident of Orrs Island and a writer. The following poem was written March 22, 1948.
How gently blow the winds from off the land, They lade the air with balsam, pine and balm, They mingle with the breeze of yonder strand, O're rocks and beaches where blue rpples play.
Fair sunset hill, upon this graceful Isle, O're looking charming stretches of the deep, Yours is a sacred duty all the while To guard the immortal dust that here does sleep.
O simple field upon upon the sightly hill, Bedecked with flowers that nature can provide; Thy monuments and stones can but fulfil Desires of the souls that here abide.
I enter not upon thy sacred soil, By any mercenary motive led; Nor do I come thy holy soil to foil. I come to recollect thy humble dead.
It seems a host of kindly fisherfolk, Whom I have known o're all the island spread; Have laid aside the oilskin and the cloak To sleep forever 'mid the hallowed dead.
No more are heard the voices of these men, Among their boats and shacks on yonder cove; No more are seen their lobster traps again Nor drying nets their hands so deftly wove.
Strange faces 'pear amid yon window panes, Strange voices call their children from the shore; No more can I turn down the winding lane, And hear the cheery greetings as of yore.
Me thinks I hear their voices rise in song, Of praise of their creator's holy name; I seem to feel their presence, clear and strong, I see them in the little church again.
How fleet is time as on and on it is spent, Some names I've read upon these stones today Were boys and girls, their minds on books intent, Or playing in the schoolyard 'cross the way.
See! Now the golden sun sink in the west, How gorgeous are the colors o're the sound! 'Twould seem the very island of the blest Are mingled in the ecstacy profound.
Tis eventide, o're land and sea the calm Blends with my quiet foot-tread from this place, I see the pilot lights they give me balm These souls have met their pilot face to face.
No more on stormy seas the their boats they sail, No more on quiet bay their dories ride; For they have heard the voice behind the vail, "Well done ye mariner, with me abide!"
No more their women walk upon the beach, With anxious faces turned toward ocean spray. For they are long since beyond its reach. They too have reached the port sublime for aye!