Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 10.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[77]
     Flags of battle, hanging yonder,
Flutter not at strife's increase;
     On their pulses lie the fingers
Of the Great Physician — Peace.

In the marble camp before us,
     Silence paces to and fro--
Spectre of the din of battles
     Hard fought in the long ago.
While he marches, from the meadows,
     O'er the heights, around the curves;
Come the men of many combats--
     Death's Grand Army of Reserves.

In the swift advancing columns,
     Many a battle-blazoned name.
With Stuart, Ewell, Hays and Ashby,
     Bears the honor cross of Fame.
Down the spectral line it flashes--
     Glorious symbol of reward
Won when all the world was looking
     Unto Lee and Beauregard.

From the war-graves of Manassas,
     Fredericksburg and Malvern Hill;
Carrick's Ford and Massanutton,
     Fast the shadowy legions fill.
From the far off Rappahannock,
     From the red fields of Cross Keys,
Gettysburg — the Wildernesses--
     From defeats and victories:

Tired trooper — weary marcher--
     Grim and sturdy cannonier--
Veteran gray, and slender stripling,
     Hasten to encamp them here.
From the mountain and the river,
     From the city and the plain,
Sweeping down to join their leader--
     Stonewall Jackson — once again.

There he stands: alive in granite!
     By the hand of genius made
Once again to rise before us,
     Waiting for his “Old Brigade.”
Chieftain — Hero--Christian--Soldier--
     King of men, and man of God!
Crystalized about his footsteps,
     Greatness marks the path he trod.