How the “Lost Cause” sheds a gloaming
On the erst illumed horizon!
All about the stricken region
Hangs the doom of vanquished power;
All throughout the conquered country
Sounds the knell of fruitless bloodshed.
Mothers mourn their slaughtered first-born,
Wives lament their martyred husbands,
Sisters guard the worn grey jackets,
Maidens prize the blood-stained tresses.