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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore).
Found 3,859 total hits in 1,477 results.
Missouri (Missouri, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
[8 more...]
Springfield, Mo. (Missouri, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
Belle Missouri Arise and join the patriot train, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! They shall not plead and plead in vain, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! The precious blood of all thy slain Arises from each reeking plain; Wipe out this foul, disloyal stain, Belle Missouri I my Missouri! Recall the field of Lexington, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! How Springfield blushed beneath'the sun, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! And noble Lyon, all undone, His race of glory but begun, And all thy freedom yet unwon, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! They called the craven to the trust, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! They laid the glory in the dust, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! The helpless prey of treason's lust, The helpless mark of treason's thrust, Now shall thy sword in scabbard rust Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! She thrills!
her blood begins to burn, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! She's bruised and weak, but she can turn, Belle Missouri!
my Missouri! So, on her forehead pale and stern, A sign t
G. W. M. Baltimore (search for this): chapter 8
Mary Clemmer Ames (search for this): chapter 9
Left behind. by Mary Clemmer Ames. Oh!
hear the music-coming, coming up the street! Oh!
hear the muffled marching of swift on-coming feet! Oh!
hear the choral drum beat — the bugle piercing sweet! Our volunteers are coming, coming up the street; Throw open wide the windows, beloved ones to greet-- We're ready waiting, eager, our bonny boy to meet. Our volunteers are coming!
They've lived through every fray-- Through marching, through fighting, through fever's cruel prey-- To be mustered out of service, the gallant boys today! Your tattered battle-banner, unfurl it in the air! I'm seeking one beneath it — I'll know him, bronzed or fair: Oh!
glad returning faces, our darling is not there! The trumpets clash exultant, the bayonets flash me blind, And still my eyes are seeking the one I cannot find; Oh!
tell me true, his comrades, have you left our boy behind? Say, soldiers, did you leave him upon the battle-plain, Where fiendish shell and canister pour fierce their fiery r
A. H. Sands (search for this): chapter 10
Mother, can I go? by A. H. Sands. I am writing to you, mother, knowing well what you will say, When you read with tearful fondness all I write to you to-day, Knowing well the flame of ardor on a loyal mother's part, That will kindle with each impulse, with each throbbing of your heart. I have heard my country calling for her sons that still are true; I have loved that country, mother, only next to God and you, And my soul is springing forward to resist her bitter foe: Can I go, my dearest mother?
tell me, mother, can I go? From the battered walls of Sumter, from the wild waves of the sea, I have heard her cry for succor, as the voice of God to me. In prosperity I loved her — in her days of dark distress With your spirit in me, mother, could I love that country less? They have pierced her heart with treason, they have caused her sons to bleed, They have robbed her in her kindness, they have triumphed in her need; They have trampled on her standard, and she calls me in her woe: Ca
Sumterville (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 10
June 21st, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 12
Horace B. Durant (search for this): chapter 12
A midnight scene at Vicksburgh. by Horace B. Durant, Company A, One Hundredth Regiment Penn. V., First Division Ninth Army Corps. By Mississippi's mighty tide, our camp-fires flick'ring glow, O'er weary, tented, slumb'ring men, are burning dim and low; Calm be their rest beneath the shade of bending forest bough, And soft the night-wind as it creeps across the dreamer's brow; The hot glare that to-morrow shines Within this Southern land May drink its draught of crimson life that stains the burning sand; And some, alas!
of this brave band their mortal course shall run, And be but ghastly, mould'ring clay ere sets another sun. 'Tis midnight lone.
The moon has climbed high up the eastern steeps, While in her holy, pensive gaze the trembling dewdrop weeps; Across the river's moaning flow, the bold, gray bluffs arise, Like banks of rugged, slumb'ring clouds against the sapphire skies.; There Vicksburgh stands upon the slope and on the frowning height, While spire and dome gleam strang
Hotel Vicksburgh (search for this): chapter 12
Mississippi (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
A midnight scene at Vicksburgh. by Horace B. Durant, Company A, One Hundredth Regiment Penn. V., First Division Ninth Army Corps. By Mississippi's mighty tide, our camp-fires flick'ring glow, O'er weary, tented, slumb'ring men, are burning dim and low; Calm be their rest beneath the shade of bending forest bough, And soft the night-wind as it creeps across the dreamer's brow; The hot glare that to-morrow shines Within this Southern land May drink its draught of crimson life that stains the burning sand; And some, alas!
of this brave band their mortal course shall run, And be but ghastly, mould'ring clay ere sets another sun. 'Tis midnight lone.
The moon has climbed high up the eastern steeps, While in her holy, pensive gaze the trembling dewdrop weeps; Across the river's moaning flow, the bold, gray bluffs arise, Like banks of rugged, slumb'ring clouds against the sapphire skies.; There Vicksburgh stands upon the slope and on the frowning height, While spire and dome gleam stran