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Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Frederick H. Dyer, Compendium of the War of the Rebellion: Regimental Histories 211 211 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 17 17 Browse Search
William F. Fox, Lt. Col. U. S. V., Regimental Losses in the American Civil War, 1861-1865: A Treatise on the extent and nature of the mortuary losses in the Union regiments, with full and exhaustive statistics compiled from the official records on file in the state military bureaus and at Washington 9 9 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Massachusetts in the Army and Navy during the war of 1861-1865, vol. 2 8 8 Browse Search
Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War: The Opening Battles. Volume 1. 7 7 Browse Search
Benson J. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War. Volume 2. 7 7 Browse Search
Col. O. M. Roberts, Confederate Military History, a library of Confederate States Military History: Volume 12.1, Alabama (ed. Clement Anselm Evans) 7 7 Browse Search
Brigadier-General Ellison Capers, Confederate Military History, a library of Confederate States Military History: Volume 5, South Carolina (ed. Clement Anselm Evans) 6 6 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Massachusetts in the Army and Navy during the war of 1861-1865, vol. 1: prelminary narrative 6 6 Browse Search
The Daily Dispatch: July 6, 1861., [Electronic resource] 6 6 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in The Daily Dispatch: November 1, 1862., [Electronic resource]. You can also browse the collection for January, 1862 AD or search for January, 1862 AD in all documents.

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n, Flow on with melancholy sound; 'Twere cruel now, to hush thy strain, And break the spell by which she's bound. Drop, drop, drop. Alas! those lips are still, and cold Those gentle fingers 'neath the mold. 'Tis many a day since little hands Toyed with those faded tresses, 'Tis many a day since those pale lips Were warmed by love's caresses; Yet, lost to all this outward world, She lives her life alone, apart, And o'er her wasted cheek but comes The glow of fires within her heart, Drop, drop, drop. She looks not outward through the gloom, Nor thinks it falls upon the tomb. And, thus is ours a two-old life-- One half-awake, one half in dreams; Until illusions are more rife With truth, than that which only seems. Then bless the fancies which beguile The heart from real, present pain, And list, with drowsy ear the while, The murmur of the autumn rain, Drop, drop, drop. As, pattering on the roof, it falls From mossy eves and shelving walls. Natchitoches, January, 1862.