Cleburne's Banner
by John Trotwood Moore
Folded now is Cleburne's banner,
Furled the flag that kissed the stars,
Gone the dreams that dropped like manna
From its skies of bonny bars.
Nameless they who fell before it,
Dust the hearts that died in vain,
Dead the hero-hands that bore it
Through the blight of battle's rain.
Folded now is Cleburne's banner,
Like the hands that held it high;
Set its stars-oh, never, never,
Shall they light a Southern sky!
But 'tis sacred in the glory
Of a splendor once its own;
And 'tis hallowed in its story,
Though its pride be sheared and shorn.
Folded now is Cleburne's banner,
But one day it gleamed along
When the war-drum's stern hosanna
Echoed in a nation's song!
Shiloh saw it sweep from under
Like a tempest in its wrath;
Chickamauga heard its thunder,
Felt the lightning of its path.
Ringgold Gap, New Hope, and Dalton,
Peachtree Creek - Atlanta, too,
Till it kissed the bloody Harpeth,
Where it broke the ranks of blue,
Till it kissed the bloody Harpeth,
And its blue was turned to red,
When it floated from the breastworks
Over gallant Cleburne - dead!
Folded now is Cleburne's banner,
But one day will right the wrong
When the war-drum's stern hosanna
Calls again for freedom's song.
Then, O then, 'twill float in glory
In a just and holy war,
And 'twill tell the same old story;
Fearless and without a flaw.
Patrick Ronayne Cleburne
1828-1864
