THE CONFEDERATE FLAG by Henry Lynden Flash (1835-1914)

Four stormy years we saw it gleam, A people's hope...and then refurled, Even while its glory was the theme Of half the world. A beacon that with streaming ray Dazzled a struggling nation's sight-- Seeming a pillar of cloud by day, Of fire by night. They jeer who trembled as it hung, Comet-like blazoning the sky-- And heroes, such as Homer sung, Followed it to die. It fell...but stainless as it rose, Martyred, like Stephen, in the strife-- Passing, like him, girdled with foes, From Death to Life. Flame's trophy! Sanctified with tears-- Planted forever at her portal; Folded, true: What then? Four short years Made it immortal!

Postwar Remembrances

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Last modified 18-April-2001