Classic Poem

In sculptored dignity and calm repose
The Mighty Captain's marble figure lies
Within the Chapel which he built and served,
Yet so exposed to all the sacred space
That they who worship there confront the shrine
Of the devoted South, where incense burns
Unceasing at the hands of Memory.

One sought the martial altar, mind and heart
Stirred by remembrance of historic days
And of a life immortal. There he lay,
A soldier sleeping as on tented field,
The guns of battle hushed forevermore.

Beside the form an aged woman stood,
And close to her a lad, grandson forsooth.
Her hair lay white and scant o'er wrinkled brow,
And yet a youthful radiance filled her eyes
She spoke in gentle accents to the boy,
Reciting fervently heroic deeds,
Extolling a pure life's benignities
Through war and peace, and telling of a soul,
The Old Dominion's soul articulate,
That claimed the South's confederate faith and pride
And love idolatrous in life and death.
And as she wandered on, her pale thin palms
Caressed the marble brow, and ranged along
Gloved hands and sheathed sword, till suddenly
Her voice broke, and she wept. And as she paused
Thus, there, for one strange moment's space she seemed
The Shade of Old Virginia.
Then he spoke —
The mute observer of the tender scene —
" Madam, you must have known and loved him well! "
Whereat she turned, lifting her aged face
With tearful gaze, and answered tremblingly, —
" Ah yes! I gave three sons to General Lee. "