Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1866-05-31
Communicated to the Public Ledger by a young
The South Mourns Her Dead

The South hourns Her DEAD.
Soldiers, there is bending Ger thee
many an eye with sorrow wet All our
stricken land deplores thee. Who that
knew thee could forget? No longer the
dark, billowy surges of war lash our
sorrow-stricken shore, but Peace, with
gentle rule, sways her sceptre over our
land Yet, as those dark waves retreat,
loud wall ascends from all our sunny
hills and wales, calling in vain for the
departed who shall never return. 1t is
Rachel weeping for her children, and
will not be comforted because they are
not" While the living are clssped to
our hearts, we cannot repress secret
sigh as we think of the dead and ask,
Where are they?
The brave are fallen For them a
country mourns; for them her tears are
shed. 3 She inscribes their names and
noble deeds indelibly upon her memory
never to be forgotten till Oblivion $
tide sweeps over her. She weeps for
them when she remembers that love for
her prompted them to part with friends
and family, from natal soil, from the old
home where the innocent days Of boy
hood were passed; from the kind and
gentle mother who watched over their
infancy and shielded them from every
danger; from the beloved wife, who
was the first to hear, to sympathize
in all their woes but, oh deeply
she mourns when she recalls that it
was for her they fought-7to her they
gave their love, their pride, their
honor and their Ines
The weary soldier no longer keeps his
lone bivouae, but rests beneath the sod,
his resting place unmarked, unhonored
save by the signing wind and the sob
bing rain, that sing their requiem over
the valiant dead. The low, sullen boom
of the distant cannon, the sharp clang OF
musketry, the shrill notes of the clarion,
no longer ring upon the air; but where
the hosts were marshalled, now sleep the
dead. A lone, deep silence reigns around
the hallowed spot, only broken now and
then by the mourning notes Of the gentle
dove, or the voice OF the passing breeze
as it whispers to the wild flowers, nod
ding, in mournful remembrance, Ger The
grave of some departed hero.
Yes, it is hallowei ground. halloweC
by the thought that this deserted spo
marks the last resting place Of no base
hireling crew, of no ignoble race, but o
the noble brave, by the memory Of how
they here bled and died--our gallan
countrymen, our friends, our kindred
our brothers and our sires.
And who would dare disturb their cain
repose, or break the profound silence
that reigns.
Our country mourns for her dead an,
while she mourns, that supreme silenc,
shall remain sacred to the fallen, tina
deserted spot be an everlasting monu
ment to their memory, ard generation
shall pass away before the bearded grail
will nod its ripening tassels above thei
heads. Nature alone will rear her q
gantic trees above them and deck thei
graves with sweetest flowers. The mool
will battle with mellow light their lowl
sepulchres. Mornings soft dews shal
tempt them not The soldiers will wax
no more. They sleep the sleep of bonol
Their cause, was freedom and their iaitl
They are dead Soldiers, thy countr
bids the farewell but thou wilt live f.
ever in Memory, and she mours for the
ReqUiescdt in pace. b CD.