From what I could gather, there are no official words to the song Taps but here are the most popular:
Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.
Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep,
May the soldier
or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.
Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.
Fades the light;
And afar
Goeth day,
And the stars
Shineth bright,
Fare thee well;
Day has gone,
Night is on.
Thanks and praise,
For our days,
'Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
'Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.
Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep,
May the soldier
or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.
Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.
Fades the light;
And afar
Goeth day,
And the stars
Shineth bright,
Fare thee well;
Day has gone,
Night is on.
Thanks and praise,
For our days,
'Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
'Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.
Memorial Day
By Eula Gladys Lincoln
In distant field of sunny France
Where strangers come and go,
Amid the farms of Flanders, where
The fragrant breezes blow,
Our solder-dead in quiet sleep
Neath crosses row on row.
Here shrapnel shells once shrieked and burst
And took their toll of death;
The very wind, itself a foe,
Bore poison on its breath.
Above their graves the birds now sing
As round that home of yore,
When, care-free boys, they romped and played;
Those childhood days soon o'er,
The boys to brave and strong men grown,
They romped and played no more.
They put aside their childish toys,
A man's work each must do,
And when their country called for them,
To her they answered true.
"We must protect our native land:
She shall not suffer wrong
For she has reared and nurtured us,
We're men and we are strong.
We'll bid good-by to those we love;
It will not be for long."
With aching hearts and tear-dimmed eyes
We watched them go away.
Some have returned but many sleep
In foreign lands to-day.
Where English roses bloom and fade,
In France where lilies grow,
Among the fields of Flanders, where
The scarlet poppies blow,
Our soldier-dead are not forgot
Though strangers come and go.
By Eula Gladys Lincoln
In distant field of sunny France
Where strangers come and go,
Amid the farms of Flanders, where
The fragrant breezes blow,
Our solder-dead in quiet sleep
Neath crosses row on row.
Here shrapnel shells once shrieked and burst
And took their toll of death;
The very wind, itself a foe,
Bore poison on its breath.
Above their graves the birds now sing
As round that home of yore,
When, care-free boys, they romped and played;
Those childhood days soon o'er,
The boys to brave and strong men grown,
They romped and played no more.
They put aside their childish toys,
A man's work each must do,
And when their country called for them,
To her they answered true.
"We must protect our native land:
She shall not suffer wrong
For she has reared and nurtured us,
We're men and we are strong.
We'll bid good-by to those we love;
It will not be for long."
With aching hearts and tear-dimmed eyes
We watched them go away.
Some have returned but many sleep
In foreign lands to-day.
Where English roses bloom and fade,
In France where lilies grow,
Among the fields of Flanders, where
The scarlet poppies blow,
Our soldier-dead are not forgot
Though strangers come and go.
**Poem found Here.
