OVER the low Virginian farms the smoke of the ev'ning rose and flowed,

The scent of cedar hung in the air—the scent of burning sap,

And up the valley the murmur died, the sound of feet on a dusty road—

A clatter and ring of horse and guns that led to Ashby's Gap.

And the Blue Ridge called to the Shenandoah stream,

As the Massanutton hills grew black—

"Look your last, Shenandoah—where the bayonets gleam,

On your man who is never coming back.

"Ah! Manassas, look again on the glimmer of the steel

That you lit with the red fires' glow,

When the Grey men roared at an all-night meal,

Look again as the Grey men go.

"He is looking back at us with a hand across his eyes,

Look your last, Shenandoah, as he rides

To a death beyond the Gap where the dust-clouds rise,

O'er the road that the greenwood hides.

"He will send a message back as the dark clouds lower,

And you'll hear it in the sighing of the breeze,

To a rest in the shadow of the trees."