| Civil War Poetry 3 Memorial Day, 1890 Towards the end of May they thought they saw them on the green knoll, draped in flags that rippled in among the tombs or billowed while stalking prancing women forking hay up onto wagons from the fields, and some were even seen crashing reunions, carousing in picnic groves in June to dance the wildest gigues they knew with swathy brazen belles who cried aloud while being entwined in tattered bunting that fluttered as they spun from sturdy yellowish frames of sound soldierly bones. |