. Bugle-echoes : a collection of the poetry of the civil war, northern and southern . oms of Spring where they lie ... .Hark! the musketry roars, and the rifles reply;Oh, the fight will be close and the carnage bedread; To the ranks let us hie,—We have buried our dead. Amanda T. Jones. ** STACK ARMS ! [Written in prison at Fort Delaware^ Del.^ on hear-ing of the surrender of General Lee.\ Stack Arms ! Ive gladly heard the ciy When, weary with the dusty treadOf marching troops, as night drew nigh, I sank upon my soldier calmly slept; the starry dome Of heavens blue arch my mi
. Bugle-echoes : a collection of the poetry of the civil war, northern and southern . oms of Spring where they lie ... .Hark! the musketry roars, and the rifles reply;Oh, the fight will be close and the carnage bedread; To the ranks let us hie,—We have buried our dead. Amanda T. Jones. ** STACK ARMS ! [Written in prison at Fort Delaware^ Del.^ on hear-ing of the surrender of General Lee.\ Stack Arms ! Ive gladly heard the ciy When, weary with the dusty treadOf marching troops, as night drew nigh, I sank upon my soldier calmly slept; the starry dome Of heavens blue arch my mingled with my dreams of home The thoughts of Peace and Liberty. Stack Arms / Ive heard it when the shout Exulting ran along our foes hurled back in bloody rout. Captured, dispersed; its tones divineThen came to mine enraptured ear. Guerdon of duty nobly glistened on my cheek the tear Of grateful joy for victory won. Stack Arms / In faltering accents, slowAnd sad, it creeps from tongue to tongue, A broken, murmuring wail of woe,From manly hearts by anguish LEE SAYING FAREWELL TO HIS SOLDIERS. (See J>age 276— Stack Ar;ns.\ POEMS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 277 Like victims of a midnight dream,We move, we know not how nor why; For life and hope like phantoms seem,And it would be relief—to die ! Joseph Blynth Alston. ASHES OF GLORY. Fold up the gorgeous silken sun. By bleeding martyrs blest,And heap the laurels it has won Above its place of rest. No trumpets note need harshly blare— No drum funereal roll—Nor trailing sables drape the bier That frees a dauntless soul. It lived with Lee, and decked his browFrom Fates empyreal palm ; It sleeps the sleep of Jackson now,As spotless and as calm. It was outnumbered—not outdone ; And they shall shuddering struck the blow, its latest gun Flashed ruin as it fell. Sleep, shrouded ensign !—not the breeze That smote the victor tarWith death, across the heaving seas Of fiery Trafalgar;— Not Arthurs knig
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidbugleechoesc, bookyear1890
