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 whar Kree lays.
Sunburnt an’ grown!
Mars’ George, I shudden ha’ knowed...
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 time o’ the year.
The blood in Pickett’s heart
Was of a ruddier hue
Than...
