MEMORIES OF THE BLUE AND GRAY by Henry Lynden Flash (1835-1914)

We are gathered here a feeble few Of those who wore the gray-- The larger and the better part Have mingled with the clay: Yet not so lost but now and then Through dimming mist we see The deadly calm of Stonewall's face, The lion-front of Lee. The men who followed where they led Are scattered far and wide-- In every valley of the South, On every mountain side, The earth is hallowed by the blood Of those who, in the van, Gave up their lives for what they deemed The sacred rights of man. And you who faced the boys in blue (When like a storm they rose), And played with Life and laughed at Death Among such stalwart foes, Need never cast your eyes to earth Or bow your heads with shame-- Though fortune frown, your names are down Upon the Roll Of Fame. The flag you followed in the fight Will never float again-- Thank God it sunk to endless rest Without a blot or stain! And in its place "Old Glory" rose With all its stars restored; And smiling Peace, with rapture, raised A pean to the Lord. We love both flags...let smiles and tears Together hold their sway; One won our hearts in days agone-- One owns our love today. We claim them both with all their wealth Of honor and of fame-- One lives, triumphant, in the sun; And one a hallowed name. A few short years and "Yank" and "Reb," Beneath their native sod, Will wait until the Judgement Day The calling voice of God-- The Great Commander's smile will beam On that Enrollment Day, Alike on him who wore the blue And him who wore the gray.

Postwar Remembrances

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Last modified 18-April-2001