The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1866-02-14
From the Houston Telegraph.
Our Dead.
M cor. 4. n. HOBBY.

bf COL. A. N. HOBBY
"1fy house shall be called of all nations the house
prayer, but We have made it den OF thieves.
Beware of false prophets, which come 70 yo9,
fhaep,s clothing but fnwardy rayening wolves"
Il was the worst work that Satan and sin ever VI
derook in this world and they that suffered 10 i WeT
not martyrs in good cause, but conFcts Ia PAD oh'
Who shall comfort them thai ST. py aishohore
graves 2"-Serm0a Of Henry Wafa bese1'er'
Vile brutal man and darest thou
In Gods Amounted place TO teach,
with innions tongue and braZen brow,
The lessons hell would blush to preachl
The cruel taunt thy lips hath Kissed,
Beneath religions holy screen,
Is false-as false as Iscarlots KISS;
Il false-as thou art vile and mean.
Are these the lessons which He taught7
And was His mission here IN VAN
Peace and good will seem Words OF naQght-
Hell rules the earth with hate again.
And thou its chosen instrument,
Hvena-like with heartless tread,
Hast dared invade with blood hound scent,
The sacred precincts Of the dead.
Not such from those, dear brave old South,
Who met thee in thine hour Oh might,
Bot from tho coarse, polluted mouth
OF coward ours, who feared to hght'
Dear. loved old South conteEn the curse
That those who hate shall heap on you,
You've wept behind wars bloody heafSe,
That bore away your brave ana true
Tbonoh vain their precious blood was shed,
Long as thy shore old ocean laTes,
Wen bow with reverence Ger our dead,
And bless the turf that wraps theif graves
From Mexico to Maryland
Those graves are strewn ike autumn leaves,
What though no mothers tender hand
Upon their tomb chapiet weayes
Nor wives, nor sisters bend above
The honored soldiers unmarked mound,
They are objects of eternal love-
In consecrated Southern ground
II recks not where there bodies lie
BY bloody hill side, plain or river,
Their names are bright on fames proud SKY
Their deeds of valor live forever
The song birds Of the South shall sing
From forest grand and howery stem;
And gentest waters murmurlng,
Unite to hymn their requiem;
And spring will deck their hallowed bed
with types Of resurrections day.,
And silent tears the night hath shed,
The mornings beams will kiss away.
Those heroes rest in solemn fame
On every field where freedom bled-
And shall we let the touch Of shame
Fall like blight upon our dead
MOI wretch We scorn thy hatred now,
And hiss thy name from pole to pole
The brutes are better far than thou;
Zen he'll would blush to own thy soul
uDisbonorad graves Take back the lie
That's breatl'd by more than human nate,
Lest Ananashkc, you die,
Not less deserving of his fate.
Our Spartan women bow IN dust
Around their country broken shrine,
True as their souls are nobe-ju Just,
Pure, as their deeds have been divine.
The diving soothed the wounded cheered-
Did all that women ever dares,
When wealth and homes had disappeared,
They gave Us tears and smiles and prayers
They proudly gave their jewels up,
sor all they loved, as worthless toys;
Drank to the dregs wants bitter cup,
To feed our sick and starving boys.
Their glorious flag, on high no more
Is borne by that unconquered band;
TITS furled upon "the silent shore"
It's heroes still around it stand.
No more beneath its folds shall meet
The armies Of immortal Lee
The rolling Of their drums last beat
Is echoing in eternity.
caJeestoa Ierds January, 1866.