divisionmemorialspage6

(This Poem is based on a poem penned by Joyce Kilmer in 1918, entitled "Rouge Bouquet". Words have been changed to fit the circumstances surrounding the death of men of the 254th Infantry Regiment during the liberation of Jebsheim, France in January 1945. We thank the author for the use of his beautiful words)

    A small French village named Jebsheim

There were sixty-six new graves that cold and deadly time
In a small French village named Jebsheim.
Never dug by a spade or pick
but covered by snow cold and thick.

There rested the bodies of fighting men
Dead in their youthful prime.
Never to laugh or love again
Or taste of the summertime.
For death came flying through the air
To touch his prey and left them there,
Alone and cold with a deathly stare.
Death hid their bodies stealthily
Under the snow on the land they fought to free,
And from Jebsheim fled away.

The sounds of war echoed above their graves
Like three rifle volleys, abupt and clear.
One- Two- and then the Third.
And Perhaps their brave young spirits heard
"Go to Sleep- Go to Sleep-
   Slumber well where the shells screamed and fell
   Let your rifles rest on Death's door.
   You won't need them anymore.
    In Jebsheim, now at last,
   Your danger has past.
    Go to sleep!"

There was on earth no worthier a grave
To hold the bodies of the brave,
Than Jebsheim, a place of pain and pride
Where they nobly fought and nobly died--

Now up to heaven's doorway float
From the village called Jebsheim-today
A delicate sound of bugle notes that softly say-
   "Farewell! Farewell!
   Comrades true- born anew- peace to you!
   Your souls shall be where the heroes are and
   Your memory shine like the morning star.
   Brave and dear.
   Shield us here.
   Farewell!"