Upon this bloody field
Where so many brave have perished,
We find our symbol of pride,
Our flag of the South,
For which men have struggled,
For which men have fought,
For which men have died;
Our flag hath fallen
Among the bodies strewn around
In the hands of a loyal soldier,
With eyes dimmed and gazing nowhere.
Yes, it is with this man
Our hearts do go,
For holding high our dignity,
For holding high our pride,
For holding high our way of life,
Even as he breathed his last sigh.
Now the flag no longer waves in the wind,
We are defeated on this eve,
A hope, a dream, gone away,
Just like the spirit
Of the man lying here.

2005

Justin SpahrSummers

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/civil-war-poetry/