The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1901-06-14
THE GRAY PILGRIMS.
Limos Written by Confederate Veteran
Dedicated to His Comrades of
the Lost Cause.


(written for the Memphis Reunion.)
Whence cOmeth all these Pilgrims in the
pleasant month of Nav?
And wherefore do these aged men toward
Memphis wend their way?
With shrunken frames, and figures bent,
and faces SCARED and old
Seek they some Memphian Oracle, their
future to unfold!
These men are they who wore the gray in
eighteen sixty-one
The future does not trouble them-their
duty's nobly done.
Their hair is scant, their boards are gray,
their shoulders bent and round.
But Fame, with laurel and with bay,
each hoary head hath crowned
1t was not thus that they appeared some
forty years ago,
When health and strength were in their
limbs. their veins with youth aglow,
They firmly stood in serried ranks, each
lad in Gray attired;
Their eyes were bright, their muscles
tense, their hearts with ardor fired.
For when upon their mother-soil the proud
invader trod,
Each eager rushed to meet the foe and
free their native sod.
They heard the Southlands trumpet call,
and answered well the blast;
The young, the Old-they mustered all
each fearful he'd be last.
IT'S hard, indeed, to realize that these in
this array,
Jackson wore the Gray;
For they're as small as common men
whereas their deeds OF old o.
Would seem to say, who wore the Gray
were cast In giant mold.
And these same old. decrepid men are
some who in that day
OF fearful fratricidal strife, did all that
They're gath'ring here in memory of a
cause they loved full well;
Perchance from their old feeble Threats
We'll hear the Rebel Yell"
But twill not rise In thunder tones, as
For Time has shriIIed their vocal chords
while robbng them of youth;
Nor will it voice the fierce, wild ire, born
of the battles rage:
Yet will it mark the patriot fire-their
children's heritage.
But it's not age alone that dims the Iuster
Nor lung Impaired that causeth them to
utter mufled signs
Their thoughts. today are far away on
They think of those they'll meet no more
It'll Gabriel sounds his blast.
They think of those who with them faced
the sleet of shot and shell,
And drowned the e,I roar vi, Of +, battle with
u 'P point E Of wa aGSS wer p eSa age "
Who dauntless braved the lannon's mouth
and feared not bayonets.
They think of those who. fighting, fell with
pierced and bleeding breast;
Or messy mounds on many fields where
valiant comrades rest.
Anon you'll hear quiv'ring sigh escape
some Pilgrim Gray,
And furtive hand will seek the eye TO
brush tear away.
And when the Angel Gabriel sounds the
final reveille.
"AsSemble on the Colors," next the signal
call will be.
Then from mountain, plain and valley
they will gather with their scars
And they'll yen in joyful chorus under
meath the Stars and Bars.
And they'll sing the song of Dixie as they
form their last array.
And their feet will beat the cadence as
they march upon their way.
And when good Saint Peter challenges
sentry at the Gates
They'll proudly give the countersign
We're Ex-Confederates."
Then will jolly old Saint Peter give to
each a welcome hand.
Saying. ~ hav heard that heather gods the
Titans did withstand;
"But I fear celestial ramparts wouldn't
fare very we'll.
Should these Pilgrims Gray asSail them
with their old-time Rebel Yell"
Carthage, Miss. L. MAURY GARRETT