Ode:Sung On The. Occasion Of Decorating The Graves Of The Confederate Dead

Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.

In seeds of laurels in the earth,
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And, somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone.

Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.

Small tributes, but your shades will smile
As proudly on these wreaths to-day,
As when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this Bay.

Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground,
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!

by Henry Timrod

Comments (26)

The title of the poem is well chosen, appropriate. I particularly liked the third and the last stanzas. One needs to think over, after reading each stanza of the poem. I appreciate the poetess's deep insight.
A perfect description of the beauty and power of Mother Nature.
A perfect description of the beauty and power of Mother Nature.
But if to be spared, if to move across that border and find the dove tree astonishingly depleted but still rooted to its site, is this, then, the law of continuity? Realistic thoughts, congrats!
Congratulations for your achievement, being chosen as POD, Thanks dear poetess for the lovely piece of creative piece..For writing so beautifully. 10+++ for this poem.
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