Harper's Pictorial Library of the World War, Volumul 11

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Albert Bushnell Hart
Harper, 1920

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Pagina 311 - Oh ! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming...
Pagina 312 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Pagina 322 - There's a long, long trail awinding Into the land of my dreams, Where the nightingales are singing And a white moon beams : There's a long, long night of waiting Until my dreams all come true: Till the day when I'll be going down That long, long trail with you.
Pagina 8 - We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. We seek no indemnities for ourselves, no material compensation for the sacrifices we shall freely make. We are but one of the champions of the rights of mankind. We shall be satisfied when those rights have been made as secure as the faith and the freedom of nations can make them.
Pagina 311 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Pagina 54 - IN Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Pagina 312 - Blest with victory and peace, may the heavenrescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just; And this be our motto :
Pagina 318 - My native country, thee, Land of the noble, free, Thy name I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills : My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.
Pagina 322 - Send the word, send the word to beware We'll be over, we're coming over And we won't come back till it's over over there.
Pagina 319 - Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful, from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak. "Rule Britannia, etc.

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