The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1894-07-19

nc lOIIOWlnS poem IN prose was
written by Smith Clayton, of Georgia,
and dedicated to the Ladies' Memorial
Association of Atlanta:
The neigh Of the iron horse and
the song of the spider mingle merrily,
and, on eagle wing, the new South
sweeps 10 a great and glorious future
while in her weeds, with sad face and
bowed heart, the old South bends
lovingly over the sacred ruins of
brave but bitter past. But the South
IS still the South, and the grief of the
old shall never be forgotten in the
grandeur of the new, for between the
two there lies memorial which binds
our hearts to the past, e'en while our
hands build the future.
"The Faded Jacket of Gray, The
violet's breath IS not sWeeter than the
memories by which it is hallowed-
the shlmmerlng stars are not more
splendid than the glory amid which it
was folded Bring it forth to-day.
With gentle hands smooth out these
precious folds! A thing inanimate, it
yet speaks with most eloquent tongue.
Its soiled front tells OF the dust of
righteous battle, and its ragged edges
voice the cruel scars of vanquished
veterans. 1t tells the solemn but
grand story of thousands OF bright
swords which sprans from their
scabbards at the call of duty. 1t tells
of the fiery charge-the stubborn
fgnt-the bleeding hero-the dead
patrot-the adroit retreat-the muffled
drum-the sable plume nodding above
these God-like men who gave, and
gladly gave, all that is best in life
save honor and life itself, for liberty
Every button has lis memory, both
dark and bright; every seam images
some patriots daring deed its very
silence is the pathos of the honored
dead.
In the land of the South the
| Faded Jacket OF Gray is common
heritage freighted with a common woe.
/ 1t hangs alike in the hut on the hill
/ SIDE and in the mansion OF the city.
In many, alas how many homes, is
| it hung upon the vacant chair, never
more to grace the form which long
ago filed a Southern soldiers grave
Its rustic is the orphans plaintive cry,
and DER its blessing and its blight is
breathed the widows prayer
- Faded and worm Yes, but the
3audicst hue which tnts the arch of
Heaven is not more bright than this
same dim shade which dims our eyes
to day, and the tooth of Time but
makes nearer and dearer the good and
true which its newness proudly
decked
cold and threadbare What matter?
Honor wore it, love folded il away,
grief stands sentinel Sad, sweet
symbol-old but still young, worn and
vet new-you live in the glory Of :
grand principle immortal as the white,
winged seraphs which circle the great
white throne.
| - IOOk III IL, stIu tllC Hi'JSoliI io' IA
OF Jackson rises to view look at It,
and the calm, noble face Of Lee peer:
kindly upon you from among the
buttons and the braid mother, look
at it, and the pale face of your dead
son comes back from soldiers grave
son, gaze upon it, and the honored
form of your dead father seems tc
rise from the earth wife, look upon
it, and the fond husband who ex'
changed it for a shroud is once more
before you sister, look upon it, and
once again you seem to see the gentle
face of your loved and long-los
brother, Oh, murdered Hope! Oh
blessed Memory Be they living OF
dead, all honor to the men who wore
the faded Jacket of Gray. Palsied be
the hand that would strike single stal
from the crown of their ever brighten
ing fame!
" Nor braver bled for brighter land
Nor brighter land had cause more grand
Nor cause a chief like Lee -