POEM FOR CONFEDERATE MEMORIAL DAY by Oliver Reeves
How many springs have gone since they Who wore the uniform of gray Last looked upon summer snow of dogwood, blooming below Their southern skies and friendly sun, Or watched the winding rivers run Or knew when spring wind's gentle hand Stretched forth to heal their wounded land. They sleep where the azaleas spread Their glorious colors, where the red old hills And mountain peaks Stand listening while nature speaks. And from the woodlands sound the strains Of memories; where coastal plains Run down to join the ceaseless tide Ebbing and flowing as they died. Let us remember them as time And tide move on in endless rhyme. When spring is wearing her bouquet For the lost legions of the gray. While bud and blossom, hill and tree Remember them, so shall we.
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Last modified 18-April-2001