Salute

On the road to appomatoxx, In the bright april sunshine. Marched the grey and haunted relics, In a long and hungry line. Come to muster here a final time, And surrender up the sword. Though its mountain be to steep to climb, Honor is its own reward. They will pass beneath the victors gaze, And be reckoned in his sight. But the glory of their valor stays, Even though they lose the fight. Chamberlain, late of the twentieth Maine. Upon seeing them destitute. Is moved by dixie's noble pain, To order a salute. Wherever men are good and true. And be of good intention. They'll like these shining ranks of blue, Come to solemn attention. So came it to be after years of war, That men should weep out loud. As a ragged line became once more, An army, brave and proud. America see' her future face, To be reunited soon. And a tiny miracle takes place, On an april afternoon. Such gallentry serves to remind, They know each other well. And men are only men they find, After four long years in hell. Our nation shall be absolute. And all of men shall know. Its for this reason we salute, Our bold and valiant foe. For by honor is the burden born, In the year of sixty five. Grows lighter on this april morn, For our union shall survive. Once more the colors wave above As honors were bestowed. Mens hearts were once more filled with love, As the line marched down the road. Chamberlain, has come and gone, But from his upraised hand. Did men find strength to carry on, And heal this broken land. Upon this ground, shall glory rest. To the final generation. For on this ground once trod the best, Of a just and rightious nationc2000 After the whirlwind Written February 17th, 2002 © on Feb 16 2002 08:02 PM PST, Patric Patterson    0 • 9