Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1898-03-30
THE MEN WHO WORE THE GRAY.
A Poem by Father Ryan Which Has
Not knpenred In Book Form.

Sing II as you VIII,
1t never can be sung
The story of the glory
OF the men who wore the gray
In their graves, so still;
The story Of the living,
UnfOrgiVen yet forglvlng,
The victims still of hate.
Who have forever chung,
With a love that will not die.
To the memories of our past,
Who are patient and who wait,
True and faithful TO the last,
For the Easter morning sky,
When Wrongs rock shall roll away
From the sepulchre of Right
AD0 the Right shall rise again
In the brightness of light,
That shall never fade away,
Triumpnantly and glorious
To teach once more to men,
The conquered are victorious.
The conquered in the strife,
Thro their children yet shall reign
BY their patience and their peace,
They shall fill the peoples life,
From rights ever virgin vein,
With the purest blood that flows,
Made the purer by our woes,
Without stain and without cease,
TIL the children OF our foes
Shall be proud and glad to claim
And to write upon one scroll
Every dear and deathless name
On our southern muster-roll.
All! we rebels met defeat
On the CORY battlefield,
And we flung our muskets down,
When our Bonnie flag was furled;
But our right did but retreat
VIM pure honor for her shield,
And with justice Ior her crown.
From the forces of the world;
(For against US thousands came,
NnnaN-hOtlphf from
But we stood against them all,
For the honor OF our name,
Till the fated day of time
Came but 10 crown our fall
With a fadeless wreath Of fame)
Retreat into that shrine,
Back Of every southern breast
Your hearts, my friends, and mine,
Where right finds "A holy rest
On the altar-stairs that slope
Toward the throne where reigns the
Where we still live on and hope,
AMI in Him We place our trust.
is it treason thus to sing?
Why then treason let ii be,
Must we stoOp 20 fawn on wrong?
To the idol must we bring
Our hearts idolatry
And the fealty Of song?
No, no; the past is past
May II never come again.
May no drum, or bugle's blast
Summon warriors TO the plain!
The battles play is Ger
We staked our all and lost
The red wild waves that tossed
The Southands sacred bark
Are sleeping on the shore.
She went down in the dark.
Is IL wrong for Us TO listen
To the waves that still will glisten
Where the wreck we loved went
down?
Is Il wrong to watch the willows
That are dropping DER the grave?
Is f. wrong TO love our brave?
Are our memories treason
To the Powers we must obey?
Can the victors give a reason
Why the men who wore the gray
From our hearts should march away,
And should pass from us forever
Like the dreamings of the night?
Do they want the South TO sever
The blood-cOnsecrated ties,
The sacred bonds of sorrow
That will link our last tomorrow
To our glory hallowed past?
All our hearts cry, Never Never!
For each soldier heart that dies
In our memories still is beating;
Tho the years are fast retreating,
We remember 10 the last.
Nay. tell il as you may,
1t never can be told:
And sing ii rs you will.
1t never can be sung.
he story Of the glory of our Bonnie,
Bonnie flag,
hen its battle-wings were waving in the
Yalley-On the crag-
On the pillows of the ocean-by the
rivers winding shore.
The years have passed away,
But all. It's Ringing still
Around our hearts to-day
The self-same spell II flung
Ger our soldiers in their gray.
Back of lines that never Quailed-
Far from battle-banners' flash
There were lips that moaned and
walled.
And how many eyes that wept
Tho they heard no cannon crash
Nor the terror-storms OF lead,
And they sighed the while they slept |
When they dreamed their own were |
dead.
Mothers. wives. and children fair,
Back of all the ranks that fought,
Knelt adOWn in holy prayer,
And in Heaven only sought,
In their infinite despair,
Cleans of hope TO light the night
Darkly gathering Ger the Right.
Can a singer gather up.
In the chalices of song,
Half the tears that filled the cup
OF the griefs Of such throng?
Crimson drops on battle-plain.
Thro' four sorrow-laden years
Were they richer than the rain.
That baptized our homes with tears? |
Nay; no singer yet has sung
Song TO tell how hearts had bled,