Farewell, Army of Tennessee! Rough glory, rooted here, Feeds the lone vow, the lingering touch Of a late comrade sworn to remember you! Lights glow f… - Donald Davidson

The seed of Appomattox blooms; its fruit
Rots where eyes are dazed with a hungry searching,
And ears are deaf with steps that murmur and follow
No command.

The sky drips its spectral
And Gods, like men, to soot revert.
Gone is the mild, the serene air.
The golden years are come too late.
Pursue not wisdom or virtue here,
But what blind motion, what dim last
Regret of men who slew their past
Raised up this bribe against their fate.

We, too, have names that blaze on mouldering stone
And I have seen men's tears fall where they slept
And heard a shouting while I wept,
A century off yet louder in my ear
Than all that's so much magnified and near.