History records the first Memorial Day as May 30, 1868, but African-American sponsored events began in 1871 and continued through 1880.
According to accounts, Northern settlers held a meeting in Fredericksburg on May 10, 1871 to determine how to honor Union Soldiers buried in National Cemetery. (As a result of the Civil War, nearly four million people won freedom from slavery.) It was decided that the decoration of graves should take place at 11 o’clock on Tuesday, the 30th of May.
African-Americans from as far away as 20 miles attended the services in their Sunday best, listening to an elaborate speech followed by the band’s rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” and a poem, “The Unknown” by C.C. Cox, read by Major L.H. York. A procession then formed, marching through the grounds and placing flowers upon the graves. The occasion was regarded by colored people as one of their gala days.
– Bradley Schmehl, 2006
On May 5, 1868, the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), a politically powerful organization of Union veterans led by Major General John A. Logan — issued General Orders No. 11. This issuance formally established “Memorial Day” as a Decoration Day on which the nation would remember its war dead and decorate their graves with flowers.
MEMORIAL DAY ORDER, Headquarters Grand Army of the Republic, Washington, D.C., May 5, 1868.
Done are the toils and the wearisome marches,
Done is the summons of bugle and drum.
Softly and sweetly the sky over–arches,
Shelt’ring a land where Rebellion is dumb.
Dark were the days of the country’s derangement,
Sad were the hours when the conflict was on,
But through the gloom of fraternal estrangement
God sent his light, and we welcome the dawn.
O’er the expanse of our mighty dominions,
Sweeping away to the uttermost parts,
Peace, the wide–flying, on untiring pinions,
Bringeth her message of joy to our hearts.
Ah, but this joy which our minds cannot measure,
What did it cost for our fathers to gain!
Bought at the price of the heart’s dearest treasure,
Born out of travail and sorrow and pain;
Born in the battle where fleet Death was flying,
Slaying with sabre–stroke bloody and fell;
Born where the heroes and martyrs were dying,
Torn by the fury of bullet and shell.
Ah, but the day is past: silent the rattle,
And the confusion that followed the fight.
Peace to the heroes who died in the battle,
Martyrs to truth and the crowning of Right!
Out of the blood of a conflict fraternal,
Out of the dust and the dimness of death,
Burst into blossoms of glory eternal
Flowers that sweeten the world with their breath.
Flowers of charity, peace, and devotion
Bloom in the hearts that are empty of strife;
Love that is boundless and broad as the ocean
Leaps into beauty and fulness of life.
So, with the singing of paeans and chorals,
And with the flag flashing high in the sun,
Place on the graves of our heroes the laurels
Which their unfaltering valor has won!
Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
Where foes no more molest,
Nor sentry’s shot alarms !
Ye have slept on the ground before,
And started to your feet
At the cannon’s sudden roar,
Or the drum’s redoubling beat.
But in this camp of Death
No sound your slumber breaks ;
Here is no fevered breath,
No wound that bleeds and aches.
All is repose and peace,
Untrampled lies the sod ;
The shouts of battle cease,
It is the Truce of God !
Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
The thoughts of men shall be
As sentinels to keep
Your rest from danger free.
Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.
