Memorial Day (Decoration Day) Its Celebration, Spirit, and Significance as Related in Prose and Verse: With a Non-sectional Anthology of the Civil War, 6. köide

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Robert Haven Schauffler
Moffat, Yard, 1911 - 327 pages
 

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Page 124 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible Swift Sword ; His truth is marching on.
Page 145 - Still sprung from those swift hoofs thundering south, The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners...
Page 178 - Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers.
Page 126 - Far away in the cot on the mountain. His musket falls slack, — his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender, As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, — For their mother, — may Heaven defend her...
Page 125 - All quiet along the Potomac," they say, " Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
Page 154 - After four years of arduous service marked by unsurpassed courage and fortitude the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources. I need not tell the survivors of so many hard fought battles who have remained steadfast to the last that I have consented to this result from no distrust of them. But feeling that valor and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the loss that...
Page 43 - I have lived, Sir, a long time; and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of men.
Page 229 - Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the blossoms, the Blue; Under the garlands, the Gray No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red; They banish our anger forever, When they laurel the graves of our dead. Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Love and tears for the Blue; Tears and love for the Gray.
Page 161 - ... sacrifice — what does he find when, having followed the battlestained cross against overwhelming odds, dreading death not half so much as surrender, he reaches the home he left so prosperous and beautiful? He finds his house in ruins, his farm devastated, his slaves free, his stock killed, his barns empty, his trade destroyed, his money worthless; his social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away; his people without law or legal status, his comrades slain, and the burdens of others...
Page 217 - See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better. Alas poor boy, he will never be better, (nor may-be needs to be better, that brave and simple soul,) While they stand at home at the door he is dead already, The only son is dead. But the mother needs to be better, She with thin form presently drest in black, By day her meals untouch'd, then at night fitfully sleeping, often waking, In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing, O that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent...

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