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Since writing the foregoing sketch I have received the following "Memorial Day Ode," from the pen of my friend, Rev. G. R. Rood, preacher in charge of Millbrook Circuit. It is so appropriate I let it be the closing chapter:
MEMORIAL DAY ODE.
The past is dead, long live the past;
And may its memory ever last
In hearts through which the Southern blood
Leaps on its way an untamed flood.
For we who bear the Southern name
Look on the past and find no shame
Attached to the cause which, though lost,
Was worth the life-blood which it cost.
And though the mournful willows wave
Over the low mounds which we lave
With bitter tears, we feel,
We know the future will reveal
That each martyred hero doth wear
A crown of heavenly laurel fair.
Each spot which heard the dying moans,
And which in death received the bones
Of those who freely gave their all,
In answer to the Southland's call -
No matter where they may be found,
Such spots are sacred, holy ground.
The heroes who sleep 'neath the sods
Rest in sweet peace, their souls are God's,
Until the Judgment trump be blown,
And wrong forever is o'erthrown;
Then they will rise up one and all
To answer to the Last Roll Call.
G. R. ROOD.
MILLBROOK, N. C.,
May 7, 1904.