Lyrics of loyalty, arranged and edited by F. Moore, Volumul 651864 |
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Pagina 5
... sound True hearts will bound , Great souls will thrill ! Then toll and strike the test Through each man's breast , - Till loyal hearts shall stand confest , - And may God's wrath smite all the rest ! III . Toll ! Roland , toll ! Not now ...
... sound True hearts will bound , Great souls will thrill ! Then toll and strike the test Through each man's breast , - Till loyal hearts shall stand confest , - And may God's wrath smite all the rest ! III . Toll ! Roland , toll ! Not now ...
Pagina 6
... sound is not too soon ! To Arms ! Ring out the Leader's call ! Reecho it from East to West Till every hero's breast Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest ! Toll ! Roland , toll ! Till cottager from cottage wall Snatch pouch and powder ...
... sound is not too soon ! To Arms ! Ring out the Leader's call ! Reecho it from East to West Till every hero's breast Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest ! Toll ! Roland , toll ! Till cottager from cottage wall Snatch pouch and powder ...
Pagina 31
... sounds " Rally To color " again . Some saddles are empty , Some comrades are slain , And some noble horses Lie stark on the plain , But war's a chance game , boys , And weeping is vain . SNOW SCULPTURE . BY GEORGE W. BUNGAY . ON hills ...
... sounds " Rally To color " again . Some saddles are empty , Some comrades are slain , And some noble horses Lie stark on the plain , But war's a chance game , boys , And weeping is vain . SNOW SCULPTURE . BY GEORGE W. BUNGAY . ON hills ...
Pagina 45
... sound the charge , when in the smoke and heat Of fiery onset , foe with foe shall meet , Yet And gallant men shall fall . may be in some happy home , that one , A mother , reading from the list of dead , Shall chance to view the name of ...
... sound the charge , when in the smoke and heat Of fiery onset , foe with foe shall meet , Yet And gallant men shall fall . may be in some happy home , that one , A mother , reading from the list of dead , Shall chance to view the name of ...
Pagina 48
... sleep . But there lurked a taint in the clime so blest , Like a serpent coiled in a ringdove's nest , And the human sounds to the ear it gave Were the clank of chains on a low - browed Slave . AVENGED ! The Soldier old , at his sentry -
... sleep . But there lurked a taint in the clime so blest , Like a serpent coiled in a ringdove's nest , And the human sounds to the ear it gave Were the clank of chains on a low - browed Slave . AVENGED ! The Soldier old , at his sentry -
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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.