Classic Poem

The valiant to the van!
For here the contest lies!
The focal path of battle-wrath,
Where whoso buffets dies!
The red-ripe star of central war
Signals the bravest, “Rise!”

Ye far-off prairie flowers!
That deadly hush, ye know,
When the swift midnight lowers,
And the black northers blow!
And here the prairie flowers
Looked down upon the foe!

Braves from the Rio Grande—
Knights from the Shenandoah—
Sons of the central land
With the Stone Mountain core—
A handful in the hand
Of Glory, and no more!

The flower of valor's wreath,
Around the crest they form,
Like stars that smile on death
From Heaven's eternal calm—
Shining, though all beneath
Rocks to the bursting storm!

“Now! by your land's last claim,”
“On life's last loyalty”—
“Go down!” and the gray flame
Leapt downward, joyously!
And, in the van, the foremost man,
Rode the good Robert Lee!

Fell hush upon the line!
Came halt to the attack!
Then burst the war's great “mine”
Of Glory—“Lee! go back!”
And by God's love divine,
They bore the Chieftain back!

And then, through blacker gloom
Than shrouds the charnel corse
They swept with stainless plume
And bore the Starry Cross!
And not the trump of Doom
Shall bring that triumph, loss!

Braves of the Rio Grande,
Knights of the Shenandoah,
Sons of the central land,
With the Stone Mountain core!
In that proud deed ye stand
Star-laureled; evermore!