. The photographic history of the Civil War : thousands of scenes photographed 1861-65, with text by many special authorities . rades and the blare 01trumpets and the admiring hosts that line the street not in the actual service in Ihe field. Harle writes otactual warfare as a sad business, which only the preservation of a nations existence or honor can justify. e-sC The summer day grew coo] and late. He went for the cows when the work was done;Hut down the lane, as he opened the gate, lie saw them coming one by one, Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Hess. Shaking their horns in the evening wind:Cr
. The photographic history of the Civil War : thousands of scenes photographed 1861-65, with text by many special authorities . rades and the blare 01trumpets and the admiring hosts that line the street not in the actual service in Ihe field. Harle writes otactual warfare as a sad business, which only the preservation of a nations existence or honor can justify. e-sC The summer day grew coo] and late. He went for the cows when the work was done;Hut down the lane, as he opened the gate, lie saw them coming one by one, Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Hess. Shaking their horns in the evening wind:Cropping the buttercups out of the grass, Loosely swung in the idle air The empty sleeve of army blue:And worn and pale, from the crisping hair. Looked out a face that the father knew. For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn. And yield their dead unto life again;And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn In golden glory at last may wane. The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes: For the heart must speak when the lips arc dumb: And under the silent evening skies Together they followed the cattle home. Kate Putnam AFTER ALL The apples are ripe in the orchard,The work of the reaper is done. And the golden woodlands reddenIn the blood of the dying sun. At the cottage-door the grandsireSits pale in bis easy-chair, A\ 11111- the gentle wind of twilightFlays with his silver hair. A woman is kneeling beside him; A fair young bead is pressed,In the first wild passion of sorrow, Against his aged breast. [238]
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Keywords: ., bookauthormillerfrancistrevelya, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910
