Poems

The Confederate Flag

by Louise Wright

daughter of Colonel (and Senator) Louis T. Wigfall

The hands of our women made it,

Baptized in our mother's tears

And drenched with the blood of our kindred

With hope for those four long years,

Across vale and plain we watched it

While the tide of battle rolled,

And with streaming eyes have we followed

The wave of each soft silken fold.

As high over our hosts it floated,

Through dust and din of the fight,

We could catch the glint of spearhead

And the flash of crimson light;

While the blood of men who bore it

Flowed fast on the reddened plain,

And our cry went up in anguish

To our God for our martyred slain.

And we went and watched and waited

By our lonely household fire,

For the mother gave her firstborn

And the daughter gave her sire,

But the wife sent forth her husband

The maiden her lover sweet,

And hearts kept time in the silence

To the rhythmic tread of their feet.

As they marched o'er vale and mountains,

While our banners rose and fell,

Though victory often crowned it

As the Northern hosts can tell.

But the whole world was against us;

Our battle we fought alone,

Till the conquerors-want and famine-

Bade us lay our colors down.

Cold are the loved hands that bore it.

Stilled are the brave hearts and true,

Watching nor waiting can bring them,

Weeping is all we can do.

Light from our banner has faded,

We, in its shadow forlorn,

Have only our mem'ries left us,

And our battle flag drooping and torn.

No hand of vandal shall touch it.

'Tis shrined in our heart of hearts

With dearest, holiest mem'ries;

And the burning tear drops starts,

While laurel we weave and cypress

For the fair, the brave, the good;

The only stain on our banner

Is the stain of our heroes' blood.

Your Dash

author unknown

I read of a man who stood to speak. At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone. From the beginning...to the end.

He noted first her date of birth. And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all, Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time, That she spent alive on earth...
And now only those who loved her, Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own; The cars...the house...the cash,
What matters is how we live and love, And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard... Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough, To consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand, The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger, And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives, Like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect, And more often wear a smile..
Remembering that this special dash, Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read, With your life's actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say, About how you spent your dash?

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