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A. P. Hill Adele animal arms army artillery battery battle Battle of Chickamauga beautiful Breckinridge brigade called Captain Carolina cavalry character Chattanooga child Christian church Cleburne Colonel command crops Culdees cultivated D. H. Hill dark Davis dead division duty earth enemy England English eral eyes farmer father feel fire give hand heard heart honor hundred J. E. B. Stuart Jackson labor lady land live look Lord Lula manures ment miles mind morning mother negroes ness never night noble North North-Carolina officer orphan passed plant Polk poor rebel regiment replied road Sarah Sir Alfred slaves soil soldier soon soul South South Carolina Southern Stonewall Jackson sweet T. J. Jackson thing thou thought Tintagel tion troops ture Vaucluse Virginia whole words wounded young
Page 45 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 241 - In vain for him the officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Page 241 - Smoothed up with snow; and, what is land, unknown, What water, of the still unfrozen spring, In the loose marsh or solitary lake, Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. These check his fearful steps; and down he sinks, Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift, Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death; Mixed with the tender anguish nature shoots Through the wrung bosom of the dying man, His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. In vain for him the...
Page 2 - Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick ? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart.
Page 241 - Shut in from all the world without, We sat the clean-winged hearth about. Content to let the north- wind roar In baffled rage at pane and door, While the red logs before us beat The frost-line back with tropic heat ; And ever, when a louder blast , Shook beam and rafter as it passed, The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughed...
Page 245 - The buried brooklet could not hear, The music of whose liquid lip Had been to us companionship, And, in our lonely life, had grown To have an almost human tone.
Page 275 - All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way...
Page 186 - Thy sinless land, Which eye hath never seen. Visions come and go; Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng, From angel lips I seem to hear the flow Of soft and holy song.
Page 263 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand, 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand, In many a freakish knot, had twined; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow-wreaths to stone.