South Songs: From the Lays of Later DaysThomas Cooper De Leon Blelock & Company, 1866 - 153 pages |
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Page 16
... and fell ' neath the guns of that city , With a spirit transcending his years . Lift him up , in your large - hearted pity , And wet his pale lips with your tears . Touch him gently - most sacred the duty Of dressing 16 Your Mission .
... and fell ' neath the guns of that city , With a spirit transcending his years . Lift him up , in your large - hearted pity , And wet his pale lips with your tears . Touch him gently - most sacred the duty Of dressing 16 Your Mission .
Page 22
... tear That starts , as she recalls each martyred son , No prouder memory her breast shall sway Than thine , our early lost , lamented Latané ! The Guerrillas . AWAKE and to horse ! my brothers 22 The Burial of Latane .
... tear That starts , as she recalls each martyred son , No prouder memory her breast shall sway Than thine , our early lost , lamented Latané ! The Guerrillas . AWAKE and to horse ! my brothers 22 The Burial of Latane .
Page 34
... tears . These splendid forms were part of the throng That delighted me , moving in pageant grand , Through the wastes of time and the fields of song , From the legends of every land . But little I hoped myself to see A spirit akin to ...
... tears . These splendid forms were part of the throng That delighted me , moving in pageant grand , Through the wastes of time and the fields of song , From the legends of every land . But little I hoped myself to see A spirit akin to ...
Page 36
... tears . And I seem to see her , as autumn leaves . Like shadows fall in the lonely glen , And the swallows come home to those silent eaves , Where he shall not come again . And then I rejoice that she can not see , How the blight has ...
... tears . And I seem to see her , as autumn leaves . Like shadows fall in the lonely glen , And the swallows come home to those silent eaves , Where he shall not come again . And then I rejoice that she can not see , How the blight has ...
Page 48
... Tears their stern eyes within ? Ashby , our paladin ! Ashby is dead ! Dash , dash the tear away ! Crush down the pain ! Dulce et decus be Fittest refrain . Why should the dreary pall Round him be flung at 48 Dinge for Ashby .
... Tears their stern eyes within ? Ashby , our paladin ! Ashby is dead ! Dash , dash the tear away ! Crush down the pain ! Dulce et decus be Fittest refrain . Why should the dreary pall Round him be flung at 48 Dinge for Ashby .
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Common terms and phrases
Ashby is dead banner barefooted boys battle bleeding blessed blood brave breast breath bright eyes brothers brutal bands brutum fulmen bugles cannon's dear death deeds Domine dust earth Exile's Song eyes are sparkling fair fall fame fathers field field of glory fight flag foemen gather fast forever forgive or forget fought Freedom Furl furore Normanorum glad glory grave groan guns hand Hark hated foemen gather hath hear heart hero hill honor lies Jackson kiss Libera light lips Maryland Melt the bells Monody mountain mournful Neath never northern tomb o'er the River Old Land passed o'er path to honor Peace plain poem prayer proud repented Right rushing shadows fall shining skies smile Somebody's darling Somebody's watching song soul South Southern spur strife sweet sword tears Templestowe Thee There's faith thine Thou tide TITUS OATES to-day toll tyrant Virginia weep yore
Popular passages
Page 67 - Where the dead and dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's Darling was borne one day : — Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave, Wearing yet, on his pale, sweet face, Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. Matted and damp are the curls of gold...
Page 111 - tis the red dawn of the day, Maryland! Come with thy panoplied array, Maryland! With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, With Watson's blood at Monterey, With fearless Lowe and dashing May, Maryland, my Maryland ! Dear Mother, burst the tyrant's chain, Maryland! Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain,— "/Sic semper!
Page 144 - Banner — it is trailing, While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For, though conquered, they adore it, — Love the cold, dead hands that bore it, Weep for those who fell before it, Pardon those who trailed and tore it; And oh, wildly they deplore it, Now to furl and fold it so!
Page 68 - Was it a mother's soft and white? And have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light? God knows best ! he was somebody's love ; Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand.
Page 78 - Virginian hills Against embattled foes, And planted there, in valleys fair, The lily and the rose; Whose fragrance lives in many lands, Whose beauty stars the earth, And lights the hearths...
Page 112 - I see the blush upon thy cheek, Maryland ! For thou wast ever bravely meek, Maryland ! But lo! there surges forth a shriek. From hill to hill, from creek to creek, Potomac calls to Chesapeake, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, Maryland ! Thou wilt not crook to his control, Maryland ! Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland, my Maryland!
Page 144 - Banner — it is trailing! While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it, But, Oh! wildly they deplore it Now who furl and fold it so.
Page 127 - For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet. "But I snatched off the trinket, — this locket of gold; An inch from the centre my lead broke its way, Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold, Of a beautiful lady in bridal array.
Page 27 - Twas in the dying of the day, The darkness grew so still; The drowsy pipe of evening birds Was hushed upon the hill; Athwart the shadows of the vale Slumbered the men of might, And one lone sentry paced his rounds, To watch the camp that night.