DEATH OF STONEWALL JACKSON.
By HARRY L. FLASH.
His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke In the full sunshine of a peaceful town; When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak That propped our cause went down.
Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground, Recording all his grand, heroic deeds, Freedom herself is writhing with the wound, And all the country bleeds.
He entered not the Nation’s Promised Land At the red belching of the cannon’s mouth; But broke the House of Bondage with his hand— The Moses of the South!