For the Fallen

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

 They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

 --For the Fallen, Laurence Binyon

Lest we forget.

All these moments

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I've watched C beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate. All those moments will be lost in time...like tears in rain. Time...to die.
--Bladerunner

Return of the Prince

They have cast the Prince from his throne on high
And proclaimed a brave new day
They have named it with Freedom's ancient name
In Caesar's ancient way.

They enjoin our souls to seek new goals
Since released from tyranny
And abjure the Prince and his wicked works
For theirs is mastery.

But hear a dusty bugle rave,
the snarling of the drums,
The whisper from a sunken grave
Where the bones are astir:
"He comes! He comes!"

And see his flag of moonlit clouds advance
Across a waste where the cold winds roam.
The ghosts of old go riding
Through the dark to meet him
So shall the Prince come home.
                            --Poul Anderson

(This is from a novel I read nearly thirty years ago. I don't recall the title or much of the storyline, and I'm not certain my memory of the poem is exact...but I still remember the poem).

Pied Beauty

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
  For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
    For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
  Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
    And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
  Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
    With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                  Praise him.

--Gerard Manley Hopkins

She walks in Beauty

She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
--Lord Byron

Recessional, by Kipling

Here in the last throes of the Presidential campaign, this seems appropriate:

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!