■ Class .^ f.frf,?? Book _J_ 11 Oop$itN° copykig!:t deposit. THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE UK! 8jN|g The Passing of the Confederate BY R. WALTER TOWNSEND Suggested by the account given of the decrepit appearance) of th§ Confederate Veterans, during their march through the streets of Lumberton, N. C, at the unveiling of a monument to the memory of the Con- federate Dead from Robeson County, May 10, 1907 New York and Washington THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 1911 .on r Hi" Copyright, 1911, by R. WALTER TOWNSEND ©CIA292827 «0 i t THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE The Passing of the Confederate Aged soldier, thou art dying! With alternate pain and cheer, Thou hast passed thy sojourn here, But thy life-strength from thee hying, Gives thee warning death is near. Marked thy lot o'er other men; The distance now behind thee far, Escaped a thousand deaths in war, Through added years of Earth's long lease, Maintained life's war in time of peace, Of intent full thy days have been. Quick as arm was wont to wield Gun or sword on battle field, Quicker heart hath been to feel Warm impulse of country's weal; Stay of peace, defence in strife, Pillar of thy people's life. War's remnant in its death decline, Grows thinner than a skirmish line, Yet like a rock thou seemest to stay ; But shriveled form and drying cheek, That halting step and glazed eye, A message of their own may speak, That thou hast reached thy time to die ; And soon the last must pass away. 9 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE II Aged soldier, thou art dying, Who hath dared so much as thou, Friend and foe thy courage vying, Doth even death affright thee now ? Through what lengthening years of pain, Thou didst one strenuous hope maintain ; On toilsome march, in hungry camp, On picket line, in ditches damp ; Or in the dubious angry battle, Where death a thousand notes did rattle. The faith that turned from brother dead, Was with thee when thy comrade fled, And when thine own thin blood was shed; 'Mid grim reverse, or fortune's smile, In victory's rush, or prison vile. When darkening hosts, life's sun did shroud, Thine eye was raised against the cloud, Not Heaven's ordained decree defy, But for thy duty's sake to die; Yet when the fateful end had come, Thy first, thy last thought was thy home. For such and more we call thee true, Can any praise the better do? Ill Aged soldier, thou art dying, Had success repaid thy pain, Warfare that to death defying, Wouldst in measure now sustain. 10 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE Brighter than the dawn of morning, Eose a vision 'fore thine eyes, Thy birth-land with strange hope adorning, With its radiant disguise. Little did we dream that sorrow Could come after such a light, Little did we think to-morrow Close in confused stormy night! Yet, who foresee, Ah, who could pause, When we, while watching, saw our cause, Like a new bark strong and fair, Eudder firm and sails unfurled, As a young eagle stems the air, Thrust her fortune to the world? On we looked and saw her beauty, Quick conformed delight to duty, Laid sacrifice on admiration, And incense rose in exultation. Did ever vessel leave a shore, Whose aim and import promised more? Her bottom seemed to soothe the seas, Her sails to draw the liquid breeze; Her prow would touch a happy land, Where aims sincere would good command; There seasons kind each wish fulfill, And duteous slaves attend our will. The voyage note, her song of cheer, Came back to landward strong and clear, It rose and died along the strand, Like harp-tones from a spirit land. 11 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE From the home shore we watched our friends, With that deep interest which in worship bends, Theirs was the blessing, our cause was one, All will exult when once the work is done; Not more the bride-elect for her espoused doth yearn, Than would we eager look that vessel's glad return. — But oh, the blissful dream is past, Ah, doth the beauteous picture slide? The sky's with gloom like Hell o'ercast, Our ship now heaves 'gainst storm and tide I To save her from o'erwhelming waves, Our sons strain harder now than slaves; But to such hands, such hearts at home, Sure nought but good in end will come. Perchance the storm may soon pass o'er, Our ship haste toward its destined shore; But higher now the tide is welling, And high in rear the white-caps swelling; We goad our hopes and strain our prayers, And in our zeal protest our fears. Ah, now the seas go o'er her rails, They break her masts, they tear her sails; Alas! she sinks by floods o'erpressed, Nay, but again, she rides the crest, While heaves each heart with weight more tense, As pauses Fate o'er each suspense. "What means she now in standing still?" "Say, will she drift? or doth she fill?" One moment more, "I see her reel," She lows her bow, she lifts her keel — • 12 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE Then with a forward plunge she sank, And like a shell the ocean drank! — No cry came back above the gale, To speak our loss, or tell their tale, In us the piteous thought, "Farewell," Was smothered by the ocean's swell. — Of all that great or sad occurred, Had fortune left one kindling word, Then other clime, or better scheme, That vessel's failure might redeem. The sea-gull shifts her course in air, In fitful journeys to and fro, Her doleful shrieking seems despair O'er that which brake and sank below. The quelling tide gives time for thought On what the winds and waves have wrought; The waters wage their wars above The fondest thing we taught to love; Then comes that emptiness of mind, A vanished idol leaves behind, Whose strange, absorbing, vacant force Draws deathward like a cyclone's course, Midst blinding chaos whirls the soul, A severed thing without control, — Till o'er it opes an angel form, Who far on high divides the storm, And in her rear the sweet surprise Of fruitful fields and quiet skies. — What peace of peace that pain can teach, What joy of joy through anguish reach; 13 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE O'er mind, o'er heart, o'er sentient frame, It sends its soothing power the same, We scarce know when, or whence, or how; As storms that strip the forests bare, Leave in their track a purer air, Despite our losses, pangs, and tears, We gather then the strength of years, And with the ebb of passion's tide, Prophetic wisdom comes to guide, And life new prospect opens now. But things have changed ! Let come what will, Man's disaster, nature's wonder, Gospel's song, or cannon's thunder, Earthquake's horror, nation's blunder, No note that vessel's place may fill. 'Twas not enough that men should drown, The purport of the ship went down, An armed angel guards the gate, Which closed behind that vessel's fate. While stars look on us while we sleep, And seasons in their order keep, Let flowers afresh the earth adorn, To yield the fruit and hide the thorn; Let beast and bird and bee succeed, Each kind alike of hue and breed; The joys, the hates, the plans of men, Will all revive their like again; 14 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE But that which perished by the tide, Whose strength was by the waters tried, Whatever ship may plow the main, No hand shall launch its like again. Far as its waters, beat the grum shore, The deep resounds, "Aye, nevermore !" Such be the symbol of our fate, Whose grim result we would abate, Though worse than vain 'twould be to boast, Since all for what we fought is lost. E'en in the monuments we raise, The valor of our dead to praise, We dumb confess that but the stone Doth witness of the cause overthrown, As the cold tomb but stands instead, Where hope has lived, but life has fled. The goodly stalk, which fails to fruit, The love that ends within its suit, The mother's heart, which tastes the gall Of virtue's lapse, or honor's fall, Have all combined no sadder story, Than that which wrecks a people's glory! — Ah! should misfortune merit blame? Nay, did our mother die in shame? Nor could life's forfeit full set forth Fit concept of Love's dying worth, Yet voice that ceased with travail pain. Left one to lend life hope again. 15 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE Soft as the shades of evening fall, Or first faint rays of morning light, Comes the deep Spirit's silent call To stir the soul to wakened might. Yea, God speaks first, yon April sun, Now warms the earth he smiles upon, And many a blade and flower rare, From freshest hues forbid despair; O'er Winter's gray, the encroaching green Bespeaks a power before unseen, Memento, the responsive mind Is with eternal purpose joined. IV Aged soldier, thou art dying, Think not sadly on the past, If in youth He was denying, God is with thee at the last. Though a war was o'er thee won, Think what thou in peace hast done; Through what devious years of storm, Thou hast groped and felt thy way, Eedeemed thy country, made reform, Memorial of thy parting day. The God who gave thee strength to kill, In kinder mood hath owned thy skill, In varied goodness done and planned, Abroad thy beauteous, plenteous land. The mine, the mart, the shop, the field, 16 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE The rich rewards of labor yield. Not as the stricken lands of old, By dearth and age long ruin cursed, But in commingled good behold, A last state better than the first. The heavens look down with as kind a hue, As ever shone from eyes of blue; O'er pall that did misfortune seem, There Progress wrought her magic scheme, While Kuin's ashes now lie hid Beneath Industry's pyramid. Though earth-built piles be paltry pelf To unseen gains of virtue's self, Yet Work's wide realm from spire to sod, May faint reflect the smile of God. Aged soldier, thou art dying, May I look thee in the face, On that brow which shrinks belying, Canst there rest aught of disgrace? As true in peace, as brave in war, Who couldst thine aged honor mar? And in the thing he would thee blame, Himself alike might do the same, Did circumstance allow; Of all that views our nature best, In deeds complex the surest test, To charity we bow. 17 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE Whatever passions through me move, Let me not jeer another's love, If without a break it passed, And crowned with virtue to the last. But if perchance there was a wrong, Would censure make that wrong the less, Or pity for thy past distress, Raise up for broken hope a tongue? Ye narrow souls, who idly prate On miseries of our human state, Go guide your eye, where they, Of every earthly hope bereft, And naught to hand or heart is left, But liberty to do and pray, And see what angels on them wait. Thou who wouldst strike a fallen foe, On serpent's head direct thy blow, Lest thou the powers unseen awake, Who on thyself the vengeance wreak! VI Aged soldier, thou art dying! Soon must come thy promised rest, Some death-ill 'cross thy pathway lying, Fold thy hands upon thy breast. 'Tis well that energy should cease, Which stamped thy name of war and peace, Upon an ardent people's soul. Whatever change may come or go, As part of passing things below, 18 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE No wave of time will o'er us roll, To wash that gilded name away. The ore that doth in furnace smelt, Another fire its gold may melt, And blow on blow on face be dealt; Divided oft, if unalloyed, Its essence yet is undestroyed, And beameth up its welcome ray. Oh, myriad things of innate worth, But virtue is the gold of earth, The all-acknowledged truth of soul, Whose faith must bind the human whole. Far buried in the common mind, Where transient interests seldom reach, Lie hid those duties deep defined, Which manhood's truest value teach. Go then, Confederate, to thy grave, Let conqueror's flag o'er country wave. But Merit's self will mark the place, Which ends for thee life's manly race; There shrubbery green and flowers fair, Adorn the scene, perfume the air; Let lettered tomb and quiet shade, There holy contemplation aid, Save funeral hymn and trill of bird, No note above thy sleep be heard. Yet lovelier will the spot appear Before the face that holds a tear, 19 THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERATE Whose low, bereaved and broken tone, Dwells on the faith of him that's gone; For Her no beauty lights the eye, But seems transplanted from the sky, As glimpses of unbroken love, Break through the broken clouds above, While wistful yearnings wing each day, Which counts Death's short divide away. Above thy bones be envy hushed, By earth's damp sod be malice crushed, There grace to recreant souls be given, To turn with new resolves to Heaven, While War's seared woundings heal away, Like turf-grown scars on battle clay. Such be thy blessing, such thy rest! And yet thy life's a type of all; To each his work, his warfare, pain, And good or ill the course befall, How few may die without a stain; But bless the hope of being blest! Who stands the open grave before, As gateway to the eternal door, Yet feels God's love within him swell, Hath aught on earth to dread no more, Before is Heaven, — So, Fare-thee-well ! 20 JUL 31 .1911 One copy del. to Cat. Div. JUl 31 Ml