Upon his Passing

I give this eulogy to my grandfather, Colonel Earl Wesley Reynolds, whom God called home from Illinois, as the strokes of twelve tolled the Blessed Morn of Christmas Day at our home in Michigan in the Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ's Reign Two Thousand and Twelve.

Upon the Passing of Colonel Earl Wesley Reynolds of the Mighty Eighth Army Air Corps 493rd Bomb Group

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

When round the world the lightning flashed its path,

With wars more dreadful than Achilles' wrath,

His wings of justice raged with bursting steel

Upon the crows of black science's wheel.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

His talons tightly grasped the burning rock,

And flung its fires on factory bridge and dock;

For or'e the furnaces of evil's liar,

He sang his circling cry for freedom there.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

Anon our eagle of the golden skies

To Dover's heights did land and close his eyes

In England's peaceful fields and end its strife;

America! You give the Old new life!

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

When hushed and awed the world seemed after war,

He to the House of God repaired afar,

And gave a sigh of thanks for Heav'nly dew;

For peace and rest and things made ever new.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

A shepherd to God's people he became;

A patriarch of Reynolds' house and name;

A Colonel of his Country's pride again;

Ordained to lead the desperate race of men.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

With gentle face and eyes both firm and keen,

He truly, nobly loved his lady queen;

His wife and only love on earthly green,

Through youthful strength and old age weakening.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.

A princely bed is laid when evening wanes,

Within these gentle white and quiet plains,

See here in peace beneath this earth he lies

Who in his age was captain of the skies.

Among the last of generations bled,

Mark him a hero of the living, dead.