Every-day Soldier Life: Or A History of the One Hundred and Thirteenth Ohio Volunteer Infantry

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C. M. Cott & Company, printers, 1884 - 400 pages
 

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Page 331 - ... upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.
Page 389 - Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing; Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er...
Page 159 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Page 67 - ... on the old camp ground, Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts — a song of home And friends we love so dear.
Page 67 - Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, Wishing for the war to cease; Many are the hearts looking for the right To see the dawn of peace. Tenting tonight, tenting tonight, Tenting on the old camp ground.
Page 396 - Mid little ones who weep or wonder And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder, Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of death around him rattle, Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er Was poured upon the field of battle!
Page 128 - Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song — Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along — Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia.
Page 396 - Was poured upon the field of battle ! The mother who conceals her grief While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod •Received on Freedom's...
Page 129 - Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!" So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a handsome boast. Had they not forgot, alas, to reckon with the host, While we were marching through Georgia.
Page 129 - So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, Sixty miles in latitude, three hundred to the main; Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain, While we were marching through Georgia.

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