Photo of eagle on Fort Snelling gravestone touches hearts, goes viral

Star Tribune ^ | August 10, 2011 | JON TEVLIN

[Kartographer]

This is a repost of a story from last year:

And so it is with my June column on the amateur photographer, the widow and the eagle on a gravestone.

A quick recap: Amateur photographer Frank Glick was on his way to work when he drove through Fort Snelling National Cemetery early one morning. He spotted a bald eagle through the mist, perched on a gravestone, and snapped shots with his aging but ever-present camera.

Nice shot, he thought.

[Kartographer]

And this is the poem I wrote to go with that picture. I hope you enjoy it.

The Eagle’s Watch

In a quite river valley,
Lies a green and peaceful place,
Were warriors come to rest,
Having honorably met their fates.

No more do they stand the watch
Their worthy service done,
They’ve passed their duties on
To other Fathers' sons.

Yet flying high above them,
On silent wings spread wide,
Soars freedom's embodiment
And a country's sign of pride.

The mighty Eagle watches o'er all
And guards their well-earned rests.
For he like they, knows the feel
Of Freedom in his chest.

And though he does his best to guard
The fallen warriors' sleep.
Still at times he grows so weary
And must rest his wings a-beat.

So slowly he glides his way
To where the fallen rest,
And there he bides his time a bit
Among the honored Vets.

And though he knows no words
Of the valiant warriors' speech,
Still they communicate
In a way that words can't reach.

Having communed with those who lie
Among the rows of stone,
The Eagle takes to flight again
And resumes his post alone.

In endless soaring circles,
He surely makes his rounds,
Guarding the fallen heroes
Who make this hollowed ground.

[galloway15]

Thank you, it’s a very beautiful poem I am not ashamed to say it brought tears to my eyes.

[afraidfortherepublic]

Thanks for posting. Beautiful and sad.

[Zakeet]

Here's another touching Memorial Day photo. You can find some background information on it here.

[teeman8r]

very moving poem, well done.

check spelling in first couple stanzas... quite = quiet
wee w = where

thanks for sharing

t

(sorry, it’s the editor in me. spellcheck doesn’t catch the wrong word.)

[teeman8r]

or my typos...

oops...

[the invisib1e hand]

awesome!

just awesome.

that photo alone would put the fear of God into the enemies of freedom if it were possible.

[sauropod]

.

[alice_in_bubbaland]

Thanks! With a misty eyed bump!

May I re post this? Possibly on FB?

[alice_in_bubbaland]

Now... that photo is heartbreaking. :(

[Popman]

Wow...the poem is...

words fail me

[New Jersey Realist]

Great post. Emailed it to all my friends. Enjoy the day and please reflect upon my tagline.

[Lazamataz]

Damn dawg.

This was a quality post. I’m gonna facebook the whole deal. Do you need an in-real-life credit? Or do you prefer “Kartographer”?

[Bronco_Buster_FweetHyagh]

Somebody please tell me that there is a photoshopped version of Obama killing the eagle for that tribe that got an EPA permit

[jhroberts]

Beautiful! Tears are running down my cheeks. I am posting this on my facebook wall. Thank you.

[knarf]

I am SO humbled.

I just took a break from doing research about "America the Beautiful" (I highly recommend you do some looking .. I didn't save any links, just read a lot .. )

and then I refreshed FR and THIS was there.

I'm making a pain in the ass of myself to my mail list.

I say; Go Viral !

[kitkat]

Your poem is excellent, and in perfect keeping with the picture of the eagle protecting the graves of our heroes.

[WorkingClassFilth]

Thank you for the photo. I will visit Ft. Snelling this morning with my father (a WWII vet) and remember your post.

[PubliusMM]

Kartographer, thank you.

[yldstrk]

Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.