Lyrics of loyalty, arranged and edited by F. Moore, Volumul 651864 |
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Pagina 3
... o'er his brim , He rises , all his floods to pour , And flings the proudest barks that swim , A - helpless wreck against his shore . Few , few were they whose swords , of old , Won the fair land in which we dwell ; But we are many , we ...
... o'er his brim , He rises , all his floods to pour , And flings the proudest barks that swim , A - helpless wreck against his shore . Few , few were they whose swords , of old , Won the fair land in which we dwell ; But we are many , we ...
Pagina 12
... o'er . I'll not think of death and slaughter , tinged with blood the crystal water Of the purling streams that murmur through the forests of our land , But of banners proudly streaming where the camp- fires now are gleaming , Hear the ...
... o'er . I'll not think of death and slaughter , tinged with blood the crystal water Of the purling streams that murmur through the forests of our land , But of banners proudly streaming where the camp- fires now are gleaming , Hear the ...
Pagina 13
... o'er thee- Oh ! ' mid clashing swords and sabres , in the hottest of the strife . I would never have thee falter ! - better death or felon's halter Than to see our cause defeated and a nation bowed in shame . Were I man , grim death ...
... o'er thee- Oh ! ' mid clashing swords and sabres , in the hottest of the strife . I would never have thee falter ! - better death or felon's halter Than to see our cause defeated and a nation bowed in shame . Were I man , grim death ...
Pagina 14
... country's shrine . O dearest ! there's a manhood lies , Deep in these slender forms , We know not of , till in our skies Such clouds of danger o'er us rise To fill our land with storms . THE SOLDIER'S " GOOD - BY . " Then , Mary E Nealy.
... country's shrine . O dearest ! there's a manhood lies , Deep in these slender forms , We know not of , till in our skies Such clouds of danger o'er us rise To fill our land with storms . THE SOLDIER'S " GOOD - BY . " Then , Mary E Nealy.
Pagina 29
... o'er the greensward That quivers below , Scarce held by the curb - bit The fierce horses go ! And the grim - visaged colonel , With ear - rending shout , Peals forth to the squadrons The order - " Trot out ! " One hand on the sabre ...
... o'er the greensward That quivers below , Scarce held by the curb - bit The fierce horses go ! And the grim - visaged colonel , With ear - rending shout , Peals forth to the squadrons The order - " Trot out ! " One hand on the sabre ...
Cuprins
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61 | |
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96 | |
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286 | |
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335 | |
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
Lyrics of loyalty, arranged and edited by F. Moore, Volumul 65 Frank Moore Vizualizare completă - 1864 |
Lyrics of loyalty, arranged and edited by F. Moore, Volumul 65 Frank Moore Vizualizare completă - 1864 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
banner battle bless blood blow BOY BRITTAN brave breast breath Broadside brother brow Canaän CARTE DE VISITE cheer clouds columns cried CUMBERLAND dark dead dear death dream drum echoing eyes fall fathers fell fight fire flag flaming band Flower of Liberty FORCEYTHE WILLSON Freedom gallant gently gleam glory grave hand hear heart Heaven heroes Hurrah HYMN kiss land Lay him low light morning mother music of Union nation neath never night North Northmen o'er OLD FANEUIL HALL OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES patriot peace Pompey prayer rebel roar ROBERT LOWELL rose shame shore shout sighs sing slave sleep smile snow soldier song soul Star-Spangled Banner stars strike sweet sword tears Tennessee thee THEODORE TILTON THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH thou traitors true trumpet Varuna victory voice wave wife WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE winds wounded yonder
Pasaje populare
Pagina 224 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Pagina 237 - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
Pagina 253 - THE word of the Lord by night To the watching Pilgrims came, As they sat by the seaside, And filled their hearts with flame. God said, I am tired of kings, I suffer them no more ; Up to my ear the morning brings The outrage of the poor.
Pagina 95 - Leaped up to his lips, — when low, murmured vows Were pledged to be ever unbroken ; Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, He dashes off tears that are welling, And gathers his gun closer up to its place, As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
Pagina 116 - WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land : Oh tell us what its name may be, — Is this the Flower of Liberty?
Pagina 201 - Lay him low, lay him low In the clover or the snow ! What cares he ? he cannot know : Lay him low...
Pagina 281 - THE flags of war like storm-birds fly, The charging trumpets blow; Yet rolls no thunder in the sky, No earthquake strives below. And, calm and patient, Nature keeps Her ancient promise well, Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweeps The battle's breath of hell. And still she walks in golden hours Through harvest-happy farms, And still she wears her fruits and flowers Like jewels on her arms. What mean the gladness of the plain, This joy of eve and morn, The mirth that shakes the beard of grain And...
Pagina 96 - And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse ; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.
Pagina 94 - There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread, As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed Far away in the cot on the mountain.
Pagina 335 - And the grandsire speaks in a whisper: " The end no man can see ; But we give him to his country, And we give our prayers to Thee." The violets star the meadows, The rose-buds fringe the door, And over the grassy orchard The pink-white blossoms pour. But the grandsire's chair is empty, The cottage is dark and still ; There's a nameless grave in the battle-field.