The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1903-04-26
THE CoNFEDERATE REUNION.
The Great Gathering in New Orleans in
NAV,


May.
The Confederate Veterans now have
their eyes turned in the direction of New
Orleans. This paper has already printed
the orders from General Julian s. Carr
to the North Carolina camps. The fol-
lowing poem, written by Mr.. w. l.. San
ford, of Dallas, Texas, upon the occasion
of the reunion there last year, is adapt
ed to New Orleans, will be enjoyed by
every old soldier and all admire their
bravery:
We are going down to New Orleans II
our lives are spared till May
To see the veteran army that immortal
lied the gray.
Twill be an inspiration and a priceless
boon, we know,
To cheer the marching columns that some
40 years ago
In dazzling deeds of valor gave a death
less theme for song
And taught mankind the lesson how to
suffer and be strong.
Their brows are deeply furrowed and
their heads are touched with snow;
Their forms are bent with weight of
years and some with weight of woe;
But their shields are just as spotless and
their souls are just as true
AS when they charged at Gettysburg the
bristling ranks Of blue,
They are coming out to visit u.s. these old
and grizzled men,
| And Wen give them such a welcome as
will make them young again.
We are going to take our boys along
fbay FOR ouca NAV
The men who in the wilderness fought
under princely Lee
And then the men of Shiloh, who, mid
canister and she'll,
In pity paused to drop tear when Sgd
| ney Johnston fell.
| And Shenandoah's heroes, too, who, with
a rebel YELL
! Had Stonewall Jackson ordered, would
have stormed the gates OF hell!
And who shall write an epic of those
days Of fire and blood.
| Nor name the dauntles warriors OF For
rest and of Hood;
OF Morgan, the bold raider; OF that dash
| ing cavalier
"Jeb" Stuart; of young Pelham, the inn
mortal cannoneer,
And all those knights of chivalry who
| rest in peace profound
In graves which Jealous Fame bath bless
ed and marked as holy ground.
The puny wars which nations wage on
nations OF today
Are but the mimicry of war-the games
which children play
When gagged by that Titanic strife when
Southern valor hurled
It's thunderbolts against foe whose
1 nyrYs1d
Then avalanche met avalanche, and loss
was reckoned then
BY squadrons and whole regiments, and
not by single men.
| The world, grown old, had never seen,
| and never more may see,
| A host like that whose sabers flashed
about the flag of Lee,
| And when the shrines for which they
fought have crumbled into dust
| Aye when this great republic shall have
| persisted, which it must.
| When Truth shall wake her silent harn
| to songs OF mighty wars,
Their names and deeds will blossom with
the splendor of the stars.
1t was not ours to wear with them the
| hallowed cloth Of gray.
| Nor share with them the stress of march,
| the horrors of the fray;
1t was not ours to hunger and to thirst
| on war--swept plain
| And bivouae on the battlefield mid ranks
| of comrades slain;
Twas not our fate to hear theajeers and
face the victor's frown
| When Christ at Appomattox wept and
pulled the curtain down;
But well we know the story from Fort
Sumter to the end,
And on our hearts is laid the charge to
honor and defend
The cause for which they struggled and
for which they bravely bled;
To love and aid the living and to revere
ence the dead.
To wreathe the sacred mounds where
sleep those loyal hearts, and true.
And while the thread OF life holds out,
please God, these things We'll do!
Upon our walls three pictures hang-the
faces of three
Immortal gods of warfare-Stonewall
Jackson, Johnston, Lee.
We placed them with the purpose that
our little ones may grow
To learn the truth and love the men
who in the long ago
Surrendered all save honor in a grand
unequal fight
For homes and country and for what they
still believe Is right.
So we're going down to New Orleans,
those fast-thining ranks to meet.
Which, only when outnumbered thrice,
stacked arms in proud defeat
The sun is fast declining, and the march
is nearly DER
And now and then there comes sound
from yonder mystic shore.
It is Deaths bugle calling in some weary
form in gray
Let's hasten on to cheer them for the
last time, while we may.
w. L. Sanford, in Dallas CTexas) News.