Stonewall Jackson's Grave
Strangers pause at this mound of clay
See, it is fresh and was made today
Neath it a hero's remains now rest
Who by his country will ever be blest,
Here softly he sleeps,
While a nation weeps
O'er the early grave
Of our Jackson brave!
Strong was his arm for his country's right
Bold was his heart in the midst of his fight,
Ever the first and the last on the field,
He knew how to conquer but not how to yield,
Till the Angel of Death
Obstructed his path,
And called him away
From the field of the fray,
Yet, though never again he'll lead
Armies who count it an ample mead
Still he shall live through our Southern land,
For his glorious name,
On the pillar of fame,
That will rise in our land
Still the highest shall stand
And when ages have passed away,
Lovers of freedom who come this way,
Ever will pause at this humble mound,
Saying to those who are grouping around,
"There softly he sleeps
Whom a nation weeps
Stonewall, the brave
In his early grave!"
-- Poem Published Mar. 22, 1869
in Weston Democrat, Weston, WV