So far, I've only got one poem available to inspire you...

I used this poem for a project back in ninth grade, but I think it holds more significant meaning today than it did back then. It's generally about an soldier unknown to the writer -- a soldier who has been killed in the line of duty. More importantly, it emphasizes the human quality of the men (and women) who risk their lives so that we, their countrymen (and countrywomen), can maintain our state of freedom. The people in uniform live, breathe, are part of families that love them. They are not just heartless robots, but people who have deeply touched the lives of others. We cannot discard one as only another casualty, another faceless name, another statistic. The soldier who dies for us is human, just like us...

Somebody's Darling
Marie Ravenel de la Coste

Into a ward of the whitewashed walls,
Where the dead and the dying lay
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls,
Somebody's darling was borne on day.
Somebody's darling -- so young and so brave
Wearing still on his pale, sweet face --
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave --
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow,
Pale are the lips of delicate mould --
Somebody's darling is dying now.
Back from the beautiful, blue-veined face
Brush every wandering silken thread,
Cross his hands as a sign of grace --
Somebody's darling is still and dead.

Kiss him once for somebody's sake
Murmur a prayer, soft and low,
One bright curl from the cluster take --
They were somebody's pride, you know.
Somebody's hand has rested there:
Was it a mother's, soft and white?
And have the lips of a sister fair
Been baptized in those waves of light?

God knows best. He was somebody's love:
Somebody's heart enshrined him there:
Somebody wafted his name above,
Night and morn, on the wing of prayer.
Somebody wept when he marched away,
Looking so handsome, brave and grand;
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay,
Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
Yearning to hold him again to her heart: --
There he lies -- with the blue eyes dim,
And smiling, child-like lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair young dead,
Pausing to drop on his grave a tear:
Carve on the wooden slab at his head
Somebody's darling lies buried here.