Browsing named entities in The Photographic History of The Civil War: in ten volumes, Thousands of Scenes Photographed 1861-65, with Text by many Special Authorities, Volume 9: Poetry and Eloquence. (ed. Francis Trevelyan Miller). You can also browse the collection for Gray or search for Gray in all documents.

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ports here pictured. They successfully withstand the attempt of Beauregard, and with the arrival of Lew Wallace from up the river victory shifts to the Stars and Stripes. Now five and twenty years are gone, and lo, to-day they come, The Blue and Gray in proud array with throbbing fife and drum;But not as rivals, not as foes, as brothers reconciled, To twine love's fragrant roses where the thorns of hate grew wild. They tell the hero of three wars, the lion-hearted man, Who wore his valor like the cannon's mouth, With patient heart and silent tongue has kept its true parole, And in the conquests born of peace has crowned its battle roll. But ever while we sing of war, of courage tried and true, Of heroes wed to gallant deeds, or be it Gray or Blue, Then Albert Sidney Johnston's name shall flash before our sight Like some resplendent meteor across the sombre night. America, thy sons are knit with sinews wrought of steel, They will not bend, they will not break, beneath the tyrant's
s praise, and his name will be repeated with blessings by unnumbered tongues.’ But there was also the sickening dread that he might never again be heard of, that stalking disease might single him out in the camp, that he might fall unnoticed when on lonely picket service, that in the wild tumult of the cannonading or the panting rush of the bayonet charge he might be forgotten by his comrades. Mrs. Ward voiced the desire of all true women, both North and South. Though the hero in Blue or in Gray was not to fill the pages of history with deathless deeds, these women believed that at least he would find an honored grave and rise to a higher bliss than this world gives. ‘Their searching message from those distant hours’ With a stained and crumpled picture Of a woman's aged face; Yet there seemed to leap a wild entreaty, Young and living—tender—from the face When they flashed the lantern on it, Gilding all the purple shade, And stooped to raise him softly,— ‘That's my mother
lood Poured o'er the glistening pebbles; All silent now the Yankees stood, And silent stood the Rebels. No unresponsive soul had heard That plaintive note's appealing, So deeply Home, sweet home had stirred The hidden founts of feeling. Or Blue or Gray, the soldier sees, As by the wand of fairy, The cottage 'neath the live-oak trees, The cabin by the prairie. Or cold or warm, his native skies Bend in their beauty o'er him; Seen through the tear-mist in his eyes, His loved ones stand before him. he sanguinary battle sung by Gassaway in The pride of Battery B. In neither the white sunlight falling upon the pillars nor the cool reflection of the foliage is there a suggestion of the death and wounds suffered by nearly 25,000 men in Blue and Gray. Around this very spot some of the hottest fighting raged. Along the hills on either side of the stream were ranged hundreds of guns. All through the first day of the battle, September 16, 1862, they volleyed and thundered at each other across