Classic Poem

Tall and erect the Mighty Captain stood
Before his victor, now his countryman
By grace of nobleness. Full-uniformed
And decorate with his rank's insignia,
His golden-hilted sword, Virginia's gift
Unto her favorite Son and chosen Chief,
Hanging beside him, sheathed in mystic flame;
He seemed the South's illustrious bodiment
Of triumph, not defeat. Yet as he stood —
The Battle-Soul of the Confederacy
Become a wraith among historic Shades —
Across his brow and o'er his war-worn face
In waves of pride and pride's repressed estate,
The lights of resignation rose and fell,
The while impiercing eyes and stately frame
Betokened his unconquerable soul.
There was a something in his dignity
Which only comes out of the rifted heavens
To man upon his knees. Thus stood he there
Throneless and crownless, thrall of destiny,
And yet the South's true King inviolate
High-towering midst her desperateness and ruin.