Originally celebrated as 'Armistice Day,' after United States President Woodrow Wilson first proclaimed the day a holiday on November 11, 1919, "Veterans Day" has become one of the most honorable and celebrated holidays in the United States.

Thanks to the acts of President Wilson, the holiday has blossomed into a truly important day, as Americans continue to show gratitude to their troops each and every year. "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service and with gratitude for the victory," President Wilson said one year after hostilities experienced in World War I came to an end.

"Both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations."

As we continue to honor this great day in United States history, here are some poems that certainly add to the honor Veterans Day brings on a yearly basis.

Walt Whitman, "Leaves of Grass"

I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them,

And the white skeletons of young men-I saw them;

I saw the debris and debris of all the dead soldiers of the war;

But I saw they were not as was thought;

They themselves were fully at rest-they suffer'd not;

The living remain'd and suffer'd-the mother suffer'd,

And the wife and the child, and the musing comrade suffer'd,

And the armies that remain'd suffer'd.

Amanda Bradley, "Peace"

Peace will come when people live
In friendship, side by side,
And cherish understanding
More than hatred, greed and pride.

Peace will come when people see
All people as the same,
And no one has to live in fear,
In ignorance, or shame.

Peace will come when people
Who are needy can reach out
For shelter, food, or love,
And no has to do without.

Peace will come when people
Learn to listen and to care
About the rights and dignity
Of people everywhere.

Peace will come when love and trust
And kindness know rebirth,
And on that day all people
Will rejoice in peace on earth.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "The Charge of the Light Brigade"

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!' he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

3. Sophie Jewett, 'Armistice'

We pray the fickle flag of truce

Still float deceitfully and fair;

Our eyes must love its sweet abuse;

This hour we will not care,

Though just beyond to-morrow's gate,

Arrayed and strong, the battle wait.

Philip Freneau, "On the Departure of the British from Charleston"

But fame is theirs - and future days

On pillar'd brass shall tell their praise;

Shall tell - when cold neglect is dead -

"These for their country fought and bled."

Unknown Author, "Soldier Buried on the Battlefield"

And when the wind in the tree-tops roared,

The soldier asked from the deep dark grave: "Did the banner flutter then?" "Not so, my hero," the wind replied.

"The fight is done, but the banner won,

Thy comrades of old have borne it hence,

Have borne it in triumph hence."

Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."

Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass, and the soldier asks once more: "Are these not the voices of them that love,

That love--and remember me?"

"Not so, my hero," the lovers say, "We are those that remember not; For the spring has come and the earth has smiled,

And the dead must be forgot." Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."

Mrs. Lyman Hancock, "When I'm Gone"

When I come to the end of my journey
And I travel my last weary mile,
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned
And remember only the smile.

Forget unkind words I have spoken;
Remember some good I have done.
Forget that I ever had heartache
And remember I've had loads of fun.

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered
And sometimes fell by the way.
Remember I have fought some hard battles
And won, ere the close of the day.

Then forget to grieve for my going,
I would not have you sad for a day,
But in summer just gather some flowers
And remember the place where I lay,

And come in the shade of evening
When the sun paints the sky in the west
Stand for a few moments beside me
And remember only my best.

John McCrae, "In Flanders Fields"

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.