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     Near my vacant chair they gather, blending tears amid their prayers--
God will hear them;
     And anear them,
Will my spirit kneel with theirs!

Nor is darkness all around us;--we can thank our God for might;
     For the strength which He has given still to struggle for the right;
For the soul so grandly beating in the nation's onward way;
     For the spirit
We inherit,
     On this new Thanksgiving day!
* * * * * * * *

Still the blue Potomac ripples like a silver thread below,
     And amid the sullen darkness rises high the campfire's glow;
So I pace the picket lonely, while, apart from mortal sight,
     Watch I'm keeping
With the sleeping
     Loved ones far at home to-night.

South Quincy, Nov. 1861.

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November, 1861 AD (1)
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