The Last of the Confederates

David J. Weisiger, Virginia


I stood on the streets of Atlanta to-day

As the noble old heroes passed by,

And pardon me, friend for the weakness I showed,

But a tear slowly dropped from my eye.


The curious crowd knew little what it meant

As they saw that old battle flag wave

Which Lee and brave Gordon and Jackson loved

And followed so gallant and brave.


But I knew what it meant, for I stood years ago

On the streets of old Richmond and saw

These same gallant men, this same flag unfurled,

As they bravely marched off to the war.


I watched by the bedside of wounded and sick

And carried them food day by day

In dear old Virginia, that noble old State,

As the war slowly dragged on its way.


Well, their numbers grew less, while the foe still increased,

Till all hope of resistance was gone;

And I saw them leave Richmond on April the third,

In ashes, forsaken, forlorn.


That grandest of Chieftains, brave Robert E. Lee,

Whose watchword was duty through life,

Unwilling to slaughter his brave, noble boys,

Gave orders which ended the strife.


The years have flown by, the days are forgot,

When that old tattered flag used to wave;

But I love it, I love it, I honor it still,

And I will till I go to my grave.


So I thought as I stood with uncovered head

Of that sad but fast-coming day

When the last old Confederate shall hear from the Lord

The summons to march and obey.


And in vision I see him pass through the bright gates

Of Heaven and meet with our Lord

Neath the shade of the trees with his comrades of old

To enjoy everlasting reward.


From: Confederate Veteran Magazine, Vol. XVIII, No. 1, January 1910, Page 25