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272 Whom have we here shrouded in martial manner, Crowned with a martyr s charm? A grand dead hero, in a living banner, Born of his heart and arm: The heart whereon his cause hung see how clingeth That banner to his bier! The arm wherewith his cause struck hark! how ringeth His trumpet in their rear! What have we left? His glorious inspiration, His prayers in council met; Living, he laid the first stones of a nation; And dead, he builds it yet.

THE CONFEDERATE FLAG

No more o er human hearts to wave, Its tattered folds forever furled: We laid it in an honored grave, And left its memories to the world. The agony of long, long years, May, in a moment, be compressed, And with a grief too deep for tears, A heart may be oppressed. Oh! there are those who die too late For faith in God, and Right, and Truth, The cold mechanic grasp of Fate Hath crushed the roses of their youth.