to stir a man's soul
just a moth eaten rag
on a worm eaten pole
But 'tis the deeds that were done
'neath this moth eaten rag
when the pole was a staff,
and the rag....was a FLAG
A LAND WITHOUT RUINS
Where the ruins are spread,
And the living tread light
On the heart of the dead;
Yes, give me the land
That is blest by the dust,
And bright with the deeds,
Of the down-trodden just.
Yes, give me the land
Where the battle's red blast
Has flashed on the future
The form of the past;
Yes, give me the land
That hath legend and lays
That tell of the memories
Of long-vanished days.
Yes, give me the land
That hath story and song
To tell of the strife
Of the right with the wrong;
Yes, give me the land
With a grave in each spot
And names in the graves
That shall not be forgot.
Yes, give me the land
Of the wreck and the tomb;
There's grandeur in graves--
There's glory in gloom.
For out of the gloom
Future brightness is born;
As, after the night
Looms the sunrise of morn.
And the graves of the dead
With the grass overgrown,
May yet form the footstool
Of Liberty's throne;
And each simple wreck
In the way-path of might
Shall yet be a rock
In the temple of Right.
 BRONZE HEROES Why do they call them Rebels? These men who marched under Lee. What they fought for, Was their future: Yes, that's you and me. The Bible states there's no greater love, Than for another to die. These stones mark hallowed ground, For these souls died for you and I. Most were common country folks, That just wanted left alone. They cared about their family And were defending their precious home. They brought with them their weapons, Just a squirrel gun worked quite well, But many never got a rifle, Until their comrade fell. These men trudged through winter snow And the briars in summer's heat. But the best that some had, Was only rags to protect their shoeless feet. So let our heroes, now cast in bronze, A constant reminder be. There will always be a high price, For life and liberty. When time on earth has ended And the Mighty Angel's trumpet blown, God will surely reach down And welcome these soldiers home. |
Father Abram Joseph Ryan Gather the sacred dust Of the warriors tried and true, Who bore the flag of a Nation's trust And fell in a cause, though lost, still just, and died for me and you . Gather them one and all, From the private to the chief; Come they from hovel or princely hall, They fell for us, and for them should fall The tears of a Nation's grief Gather the corpses strewn O'er many a battle plain; From many a grave that lies so lone, Without a name and without a stone, Gather the Southern slain. We care not whence they came, Dear in their lifeless clay! Whether unknown, or known to fame, Their cause and country still the same; They died and wore the Gray. Wherever the brave have died, They should not rest apart; Living, they struggled side by side, Why should the hand of Death divide A single heart from heart? Gather their scattered clay, Wherever it may rest; Just as they marched to the bloody fray, Just as they fell on the battle day, Bury them breast to breast. The foeman need not dread This gathering of the brave; Without sword or flag, and with soundless tread, We muster once more our deathless dead, Out of each lonely grave. The foeman need not frown, They all are powerless now; We gather them here and we lay them down, And tears and prayers are the only crown We bring to wreathe each brow. And the dead thus meet the dead, While the living o'er them weep; And the men by Lee and Stonewall led, And the hearts that once together bled, Together still shall sleep. |
ANSWER TO THE CONQUERED BANNER
Written at Fayetteville, North Carolina 1865-66
Touch it not, unfold it never
Let it droop there, furled forever,
For its peoples' hopes are dead.
The Conquered Banner.
NO, fold it not away forever
Keep it in our hearts' depth ever,
Love it, keep it for its past;
Take it out some time and wave it,
Think of those who died to save it,
Glory in the blood we gave it,
Bind it with our heart-strings fast.
Take it out sometime and show it,
Let your children early know it,
Know its glory - not its shame.
Teach them early to adore it,
Scorn forever those who tore it,
Tell them how it won a name,
That will mock Time's crumbling finger
And in future ages linger
On the brighest rolls of fame.
Yes, 'tis true, 'tis worn and tattered
And with brave heart blood 'tis spattered
And its staff is broke and shattered,
But it is a precious sight.
'Tis a witness how secession
Threw the glove down to oppression
Scorning at the last, concession,
Giving life blood for the right.
Oh, we cannot, cannot lose it,
(Oh how could the world refuse it?)
Can we let the foe abuse it
Or its history bright?
No, in our hearts deep, deep recesses
Its memory lingers yet, and blesses
Those who for it fought and died.
And we pray the God of Heaven
Who our darling idol's given
And who to us this hope has given
That this prayer be not denied.
In future years some hand may take it
From its resting place and shake it
O'er the young and brave,
And the old spirit still undaunted
In their young hearts by God implanted
Will triumph o'er foes who vaunted
And freedom to the South be granted,
Though now there's none to save.
Though folded now away so sadly
In future years we'll wave it gladly,
In prosperous path we'll tread.
And thousands yet un-born shall hail it,
Tens of thousands never fail it,
For-gotten be the men who wail it -
Hated those that now can trail it -
Oh, can our hopes be dead?
CAROLINA'S DEAD
Written for the unveiling of the Cumberland County
Confederate Monument 10 May 1902.
UNCOFFINED on the battle-field,
Those dreamless ones are sleeping,
Unconscious of the memories
Left in hearts that still are weeping -
Weeping for those that never came -
Brothers, and friends, and lovers,
Those gallant ones whose precious forms
Virginia's soil now covers.
Their memory to us is dear;
Virginia too should love them,
For with their blood her fields are soaked,
Tho' now so green above them.
Where they were needed, there they came,
Lee "could not do without them"
And never on a fair fought field
Could foreign valor rout them.
On Tennessean hillsides fair,
Alas, how thick they're lying!
And Pennsylvania's rocky heights
Witnessed their faith undying -
Faith in their cause, which made their wills
So strong they ne'er did falter
In giving life - 'twas all they had -
To lay on freedom's altar.
Beyond the Mississippi's flood,
The grass is o'er them springing,
And 'neath Atlantic's sullen roar,
They hear the mermaids singing.
Do these need stones, to keep their deeds
Fresh in the hearts left behind them?
Alas! alas! the young must learn
While we can still remind them.
Then raise your monumental stone
To tell the grand old story
How splendidly her soldier boys
Fought for the old State's glory!
And let the little children know
The flag their fathers died for,
Teach them the cause they loved in vain,
The principles they tried for.
For is not true, tried patriot love
A corner-stone worth trying,
O'er which to build our country up?
Then not in vain their dying.
And when this day comes yearly round
Get out the flag, and wave it
Above the record of their deeds
Of those who died to save it.
