Tin- Matriotic mothers, Handed in one band as brothers. One task only of all others
Calls us lu-rr to nu-et again: Calls us 'neath the blue of heaven, Here to praise and honor seven,
Heroes, martyrs Mosby's men.
" Lit by Memory's sunset tender, See ! their names shine out in splendor, Each our Southland's staunch defender,
Minstrel's song and poet's pen, Sing, write and tell their story, They, who passed through death to glory
Heroes, martyrs Mosby's men.
" Rise, oh shaft, and tell the story, Of our comrades, it was Glory,
And not Death that claimed its own: While with tears, our eyes grow dimmer, We beheld their names glimmer
On thy consecrated stone.
" Rise ! while prayers and music blending, Greet thee as some soul ascending, Where life's smiles and tears have ending,
Close beside the shining throne. Rise ! the cry goes up again
Love's last gift for Mosby's men.
Ladies of the Warren Memorial Association, permit me, in con- clusion, to address a few words to you in behalf of my comrades. The survivors of Mosby's command are few, indeed. Their ranks, sadly thinned in battle, have been still more depleted by the ravages of time. Those of us who were but boys during that war, are now, as you see, gray-haired old men. Though some of us have been spared to erect this monument, the last of us will soon have passed away, and to the care of others we must commit this shaft. It is to your loving hands and hearts we would entrust it.
Through all our conflicts on the battle-field, through all the trials and disasters of our defeat, through all the glorious upbuilding of our country, the loving patriotism exemplified by the women of the
