Armistead Churchill Gordon

  • Roses of Memory

    A rose’s crimson stain,
      A rose’s stainless white,
    Fitly become the immortal slain
      Who fell in the great fight.
        When Armistead died amid his foes,
          Girt by the rebel cheer,
        God plucked a soul like a white rose
          In June...

  • Kree

            my boy Kree?
    He played wid you when you was a chile?
            You an’ he
    Growed up tergether? Wait! Lemme see!
    Closer! so I can look in yer face!—
            Mars’ George’s smile!
            Lord love you, Marster!
    Dar ’neaf dat cypress is...