On Normandy's green fields
where the hedgerows still run
and the sands on the beaches
lie quiet as air;
on the bluffs stand the cross
and the star white and pure;
the flag of our fathers
flies high in the wind.

The battlefields calling,
are seen by a few
who have traveled so far,
to set down their memories
for buddies they've loved.

And each waning day,
as the sea mourns alone,
the soft sound of Taps
flows over the fields,
saying yes, we remember,
the brave deeds you've done,
we remember your faces eternally

By: John Kent