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Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Admiral David D. Porter, The Naval History of the Civil War. 166 0 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 8. (ed. Frank Moore) 132 2 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 9. (ed. Frank Moore) 110 0 Browse Search
Frederick H. Dyer, Compendium of the War of the Rebellion: Regimental Histories 74 0 Browse Search
John Dimitry , A. M., Confederate Military History, a library of Confederate States Military History: Volume 10.1, Louisiana (ed. Clement Anselm Evans) 61 1 Browse Search
Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War. Volume 4. 60 0 Browse Search
Benson J. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War. Volume 3. 58 0 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 57 1 Browse Search
Horace Greeley, The American Conflict: A History of the Great Rebellion in the United States of America, 1860-65: its Causes, Incidents, and Results: Intended to exhibit especially its moral and political phases with the drift and progress of American opinion respecting human slavery from 1776 to the close of the War for the Union. Volume II. 48 0 Browse Search
Comte de Paris, History of the Civil War in America. Vol. 4. (ed. Henry Coppee , LL.D.) 36 0 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 Natchitoches (Louisiana, United States) or search for Natchitoches (Louisiana, United States) in all documents.

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The Daily Dispatch: November 1, 1862., [Electronic resource], article 1 (search)
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.