Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 12.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[351]
     That Glory sits by the side of Grief,
Yes, they grow ‘taller’ as the years pass by
     And the World learns how they could do and die.
A Nation respects them. The East and West,
     The far-off slope of the Golden Coast,
The stricken South and the North agree
     That the heroes who died for you and me—
Each valiant man, in his own degree,
     Whether he fell on the shore or sea,
Did deeds of which
     This Land, though rich
In histories may boast,
     And the Sage's Book and the Poet's Lay
Are full of the deeds of the Men in Gray.
     No lion cleft from the rock is ours,
Such as Lucerne displays,
     Our only wealth is in tears and flowers,
And words of reverend praise.
     And the Roses brought to this silent Yard
Are Red and White. Behold!
     They tell how wars for a kingly crown,
In the blood of England's best writ down,
     Left Britain a story whose moral old
Is fit to be graven in text of gold:

The moral is, that when battles cease
     The ramparts smile in the blooms of peace.
And flowers to-day were hither brought
     From the gallant men who against us fought;
York and Lancaster!—Gray and Blue!
     Each to itself and the other true!—
And so I say
     Our Men in Gray
Have left to the South and North a tale
     Which none of the glories of Earth can pale.

Norfolk has names in the sleeping host
     Which fill us with mournful pride—
Taylor and Newton, we well may boast,
     McPhail, and Walke, and Selden, too,
Brave as the bravest, as truest true!
     And Grandy struck down ere his May became June,
A battle-flag folded away too soon,
     And Williams, than whom not a man stood higher
'Mid the host of heroes baptized in fire.
     And Mallory, whose sires aforetime died,
When Freedom and Danger stood side by side.
     McIntosh, too, with his boarders slain,