O Robert Lee, you paladin,
I wonder how my words would strike you.
I know the portrait might have been
In many, many ways more like you.
But you would not have had me plan
To make your figure more heroic;
For you would rather be a man
Than just a marble hearted stoic.
And I can often hear you say,
When they condemn and when they flatter,
In your divinely tender way,
‘Good friend, it really doesn’t matter.’