Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1878-06-05
For the Memphis Appeal
STOyEWALL JACKSON.

In Virginia's fairest valley,
Meath the mountains steel-blue edge,
Where this legion solemn marches
And the echo OF their bugles
Fell In broken, solemn measures
Like the notes OF funeral marches
Calling shrilly 20 the dead.
Where he taught his country's boyhood
Science and the art of war;
There in the quiet OF the shadow
Which that old pile casts anon,
Sleeps a nations buried treasure.
Rest Virg1nia'S noble SON.
Grand, heroic StoIl sSal1 Jackson.
Dearest soldier, buried treasure,
Strew to-day his grave with flowers,
Woman's act, a noble measure
OF yearly tribute to his powers,
Which were full and all commanding,
Towering, matchlesS all supplanting
Like a shaft Of light advancing
Destroying in Its binding brightness
And falling like a ihundeTbolt,
Scattering armies In their fereeness
As lightning scatters into fragments
The body oil the giant oak.
Soldier daring stately, courteous,
Hist ~ has no nobler name;
Christian warrior, truly righteous,
Heavens sweeter for thy fame.
And the sunlight and the starlight,
And the heavens gentle rain,
Are much deeper in their brightness
And much sweeter In their strain,
Since thou art with Chr st united,
And with angels sweetly reign.
Thy form has m0uldered Into dust,
Beneath the roses and the sod;
Thy sword may have a spot of rust,
But spotlesS is thy soul with God.
You that love the truly good,
The piOuS and the brave;
And feel within your bosom thrOb
The thrill his actions gave;
And see along your his't'rys page,
Where justice posts his name,
The heroic splendor of the light,
His spirit wakes to flame
Must feel its grand and tender might
CourStng through the brain,
Electrifytng every paIt-
he rlr1lS of tha r.
Ebb and flow, ebb and flow
With the battles ebb and flow.
His name, his deeds, his precious fame,
Like incense from censor rare,
Has a charm potent name
That makes US feel that all is we'll;
When otherwise. tits all despair
Has the gift to make US fee
That death has not the cOnqueror's sway;
But deeds enacted in the time
When life was sweet with piety
Are truly deathless and sublime,
And unbOunded as eternity.
StonewaIl Jackson is on the shore
Where no angry pillows roll,
Where no tempests fret him more,
But where the current of his soul
Moves as softly among the stars,
Which crown the dome OF heavens vault,
As music sweeping on the bars
So sweetly laid by composers art
And on The beams those worlds of light
send to earth to warm this orb,
His spirit moves with all its might,
Proving that our prayer Is heard;
AM to-day. with thoughts for the dead,
And wish the mourners' solemn tread
Were only JackSon's footsteps here.
Mother, ut thy darling's tomb,
Widow, at thy husbands grave,
orphan, at the grass-grown mound,
StrewiDg flowers DER the brave,
Feelest his spirit In thy heart
Drawn like some cherub to thy breast
Conscious OF mothers part,
Watchful of ev'ry fond careSS.
Let the children learn of him
Who took OF them such tender care,
To trust to God for ey'ry thing,
And He'll defend thee ev'ry where.
Then let his name In nursery song,
And let his name in child-like love
Be with other things among
The noblest tGey may ever know;
And when in years they grow apace
And feel tie grandeur of his name,
Point them where the mountains trace
His deeds of valor wrought IL; flame.
Show them well its furrowed base
Browning to its very cone,
With trenches of our buried race
Whitening with their bleaching bones
Tell them this was Mayre's Nights,
Which reddening as the day wore on,
Grew like crimson ere twas night.
With slaughter OF our nations sons.
Tell them how he stood as firm
As the mountain On its floor.
Yet wept to see the bloody turn
The battle took against his foe.
Who would enslave his sacred dust?
Ignoble let his mem'ry bel
Yon flag securely guards the trust,
And we'll defend 1t to be free.
Flag of our fathers, It's our right;
Our banner, 1t forever must
Nerve us when we come to fight,
And fold US to our silent dust.
The flag he fought, 1t must survive;
Who dare restrain 1t where it waves?
Flag of our sireS and their Sires,
Wave II must DER our graves.
Is 1t treason II we tell
How he battled, how he won,
And amid the shrek of shell
Shone his genius like the sun?
Treason? No; no, our land,
We are unit to be free,
And other than a loyal hand
Would raise again the upaS tree.
MEMPHIS, June 4, 1878.