Robert Foley
Bluford M. Sims Camp 1630
Ocoee, Fl

Darkness falling all around, yet light enough to see
What was once a southern soul now lying ‘neath a tree.
Some days ago the echoes boomed and smoke filled in the air
All gone now but broken guns and cannon everywhere.
The Union blue that fell that day have left the fields of hay
But gray and butternut remain their treatment in dismay
Left where they fell, hard upon the ground
And now their comrades gone and no one else around
In dried up blood and tattered rags that mark their final call
Only ravens there to pick their bones, their families would appall.
Wind and rain have washed the ground and now grass green so tall
Tis hard to find their final place and time will take them all.
Sometimes a name will be called at home and no answer there will be
Thoughts of him are all that’s left to share with his family
As the years drift by, those memories fade and are gone
Until that day when all that’s left are scratches on a stone.

Note by author:
Inspiration came from a visit to a family cemetery at Bracketts Farm, near Louisa, Va. I was told a story about the disinterring of bodies that were in shallow graves in Virginia in 1865. The federal government was relocating Union soldiers to the new National Cemetery on Marye’s Heights in Fredericksburg, VA. When asked what to do with the Confederate bodies, Andrew Johnson said let them rot on top of the ground.

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