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Weakley Gordon Kennedy

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Weakley Gordon Kennedy

Birth
Tennessee, USA
Death
21 Mar 1862 (aged 32)
Missouri, USA
Burial
Lemay, St. Louis County, Missouri, USA Add to Map
Plot
210 4998
Memorial ID
View Source
Husband of Sarah Ann Stockard Kennedy Williams who is buried at McClain Cemetery, Lewis Co., Tenn. Weakley Gordon Kennedy died a prisoner of war during the Civil War, along with 3,200 other C.S.A. soldiers, while being held at St. Louis. He and Sarah Ann were the parents of James William Kennedy, my great grandfather. They had 5 children.
The old homestead (cabin) which stood for over 125 years was taken down and the pieces were numbered for a future museum in Lewis/Maury County, Tennessee.
Inscription: 53rd Tenn Reg C S A

Soldiers Grave
Pearl Rivers

Tread lightly, 'tis a soldiers grave,
A lonely, mossy mound;
And yet to hearts like mine and thine
It should be holy ground.

Speak softly, let no careless laugh,
No idle, thoughtless jest,
Escape your lips where sweetly sleeps
The hero in his rest.

For him no reveille will beat
When morning beams shall come;
For him, at night, no tattoo rolls
Its thunders from the drum.

Tread lightly! for a man bequeathed,
Ere laid beneath this sod,
His ashes to his native land,
His gallant soul to God.
Husband of Sarah Ann Stockard Kennedy Williams who is buried at McClain Cemetery, Lewis Co., Tenn. Weakley Gordon Kennedy died a prisoner of war during the Civil War, along with 3,200 other C.S.A. soldiers, while being held at St. Louis. He and Sarah Ann were the parents of James William Kennedy, my great grandfather. They had 5 children.
The old homestead (cabin) which stood for over 125 years was taken down and the pieces were numbered for a future museum in Lewis/Maury County, Tennessee.
Inscription: 53rd Tenn Reg C S A

Soldiers Grave
Pearl Rivers

Tread lightly, 'tis a soldiers grave,
A lonely, mossy mound;
And yet to hearts like mine and thine
It should be holy ground.

Speak softly, let no careless laugh,
No idle, thoughtless jest,
Escape your lips where sweetly sleeps
The hero in his rest.

For him no reveille will beat
When morning beams shall come;
For him, at night, no tattoo rolls
Its thunders from the drum.

Tread lightly! for a man bequeathed,
Ere laid beneath this sod,
His ashes to his native land,
His gallant soul to God.


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