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Browsing named entities in a specific section of 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). Search the whole document.

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1 2 3 4
September (search for this): chapter 6
sible details of its composition on August 2, 1861, were given by Lamar Fontaine. Joel Chandler Harris, who declared he would be glad to claim the poem as a specimen of Southern literature, concluded for five separate reasons that it was the production of Mrs. Ethelinda Beers. Mrs. Beers in a private letter to Mrs. Helen Kendrick Johnson said: the poor picket has had so many authentic claimants, and willing sponsors, that I sometimes question myself whether I did really write it that cool September morning, after reading the stereotyped all quiet, etc. , to which was added in small type a picket shot. the lines first appeared in Harper's Weekly for November 30, 1861. ‘All quiet along the Potomac,’ they say, ‘Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 'Tis nothing: a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost—only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, the death-ra
December 25th (search for this): chapter 6
te to captain. At the time of writing this poem he was with the Army of Northern Virginia encamped about Fredericksburg. The sanguinary repulse of Burnside was only twelve days in the past, but the thoughts of the soldiers were turned toward family and home. The wintry blast goes wailing by, The snow is falling overhead; I hear the lonely sentry's tread, And distant watch-fires light the sky. Dim forms go flitting through the gloom; The soldiers cluster round the blaze To talk of other Christmas days, And softly speak of home and home. My sabre swinging overhead Gleams in the watch-fire's fitful glow, While fiercely drives the blinding snow, And memory leads me to the dead. My thoughts go wandering to and fro, Vibrating 'twixt the Now and Then; I see the low-browed home again, The old hall wreathed with mistletoe. And sweetly from the far-off years Comes borne the laughter faint and low, The voices of the Long Ago! My eyes are wet with tender tears. I feel again the mother-kiss,
1861 AD (search for this): chapter 6
would be taken, by the officer of the guard designated for that purpose, to the extreme outpost, either relieving another regiment or forming new outposts, according to the necessities or changes of position. The period of the poem is the fall of 1861. The battle of Bull Run had been fought in the summer, and thereafter there was very little military activity along the Potomac. McClellan was doing what was absolutely necessary to effective operations—he was drilling the raw recruits into prof at Aquia creek landing, in February, 1863 Elizabeth Stuart Phelps' poem A message breathes a faith that inspired the mothers of many men who stand expectantly in this picture, and of many thousands more who, like them, were ‘off to the war’ in 1861-1865. Proud, indeed, were the sweethearts and wives of their ‘heroes’ marching away to the big camps or floating down the stream on the transports. Honor and glory awaited these sons and brothers who were helping to serve their cause. To eac
August 2nd, 1861 AD (search for this): chapter 6
Chapter 5: Wives and sweethearts At Antietam bridge A Union soldier after the battle, in September, 1862, occupied with different duties. The picket-guard The authorship of this production has occasioned more dispute than any other poem of the conflict. Very plausible details of its composition on August 2, 1861, were given by Lamar Fontaine. Joel Chandler Harris, who declared he would be glad to claim the poem as a specimen of Southern literature, concluded for five separate reasons that it was the production of Mrs. Ethelinda Beers. Mrs. Beers in a private letter to Mrs. Helen Kendrick Johnson said: the poor picket has had so many authentic claimants, and willing sponsors, that I sometimes question myself whether I did really write it that cool September morning, after reading the stereotyped all quiet, etc. , to which was added in small type a picket shot. the lines first appeared in Harper's Weekly for November 30, 1861. ‘All quiet along the Potomac,’ they sa
November 30th, 1861 AD (search for this): chapter 6
Southern literature, concluded for five separate reasons that it was the production of Mrs. Ethelinda Beers. Mrs. Beers in a private letter to Mrs. Helen Kendrick Johnson said: the poor picket has had so many authentic claimants, and willing sponsors, that I sometimes question myself whether I did really write it that cool September morning, after reading the stereotyped all quiet, etc. , to which was added in small type a picket shot. the lines first appeared in Harper's Weekly for November 30, 1861. ‘All quiet along the Potomac,’ they say, ‘Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 'Tis nothing: a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost—only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.’ All quiet along the Potomac to-night, Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming; Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, Or the light of the watch-fi
July 1st, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 6
ashing? It looked like a rifle . . . ‘Ha! Mary, good-by!’ The red life-blood is ebbing and plashing. All quiet along the Potomac to-night— No sound save the rush of the river, While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead— The picket's off duty forever! Ethel Lynn Beers. A message The battle of Malvern Hill here referred to was the fierce concluding engagement of the Seven days battles around Richmond which terminated McClellan's Peninsula campaign. It was that battle on July 1, 1862, that saved the Army of the Potomac from destruction by the desperate onsets of Lee, but the New England poet preserves a scene which has a human, not a military significance. Was there ever message sweeter Than that one from Malvern Hill, From a grim old fellow,—you remember? Dying in the dark at Malvern Hill. With his rough face turned a little, On a heap of scarlet sand, They found him, just within the thicket, With a picture in his hand,— Off to the war—embarkation of ni
September, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 6
Chapter 5: Wives and sweethearts At Antietam bridge A Union soldier after the battle, in September, 1862, occupied with different duties. The picket-guard The authorship of this production has occasioned more dispute than any other poem of the conflict. Very plausible details of its composition on August 2, 1861, were given by Lamar Fontaine. Joel Chandler Harris, who declared he would be glad to claim the poem as a specimen of Southern literature, concluded for five separate reasons that it was the production of Mrs. Ethelinda Beers. Mrs. Beers in a private letter to Mrs. Helen Kendrick Johnson said: the poor picket has had so many authentic claimants, and willing sponsors, that I sometimes question myself whether I did really write it that cool September morning, after reading the stereotyped all quiet, etc. , to which was added in small type a picket shot. the lines first appeared in Harper's Weekly for November 30, 1861. ‘All quiet along the Potomac,’ they s
February, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 6
from destruction by the desperate onsets of Lee, but the New England poet preserves a scene which has a human, not a military significance. Was there ever message sweeter Than that one from Malvern Hill, From a grim old fellow,—you remember? Dying in the dark at Malvern Hill. With his rough face turned a little, On a heap of scarlet sand, They found him, just within the thicket, With a picture in his hand,— Off to the war—embarkation of ninth army corps at Aquia creek landing, in February, 1863 Elizabeth Stuart Phelps' poem A message breathes a faith that inspired the mothers of many men who stand expectantly in this picture, and of many thousands more who, like them, were ‘off to the war’ in 1861-1865. Proud, indeed, were the sweethearts and wives of their ‘heroes’ marching away to the big camps or floating down the stream on the transports. Honor and glory awaited these sons and brothers who were helping to serve their cause. To each fond heart came the hope: ‘
1864 AD (search for this): chapter 6
ive a joyous welcome on their return. McCabe's verses on this theme are classic. And the roseate shadows of fading light Softly clear steal over the sweet young face, Where a woman's tenderness blends to-night With the guileless pride of a knightly race. Her hands lie clasped in a listless way On the old Romance—which she holds on her knee— Of Tristram, the bravest of knights in the fray, And Iseult, who waits by the sounding sea. And her proud, dark eyes wear a softened look As she watches the dying embers fall: Perhaps she dreams of the knight in the book, Perhaps of the pictures that smile on the wall. What fancies I wonder are thronging her brain, For her cheeks flush warm with a crimson glow! Perhaps—ah! me, how foolish and vain! But I'd give my life to believe it so! Well, whether I ever march home again To offer my love and a stainless name, Or whether I die at the head of my men,— I'll be true to the end all the same. Petersburg Trenches, 1864. William Gordon
1865 AD (search for this): chapter 6
fellow,—you remember? Dying in the dark at Malvern Hill. With his rough face turned a little, On a heap of scarlet sand, They found him, just within the thicket, With a picture in his hand,— Off to the war—embarkation of ninth army corps at Aquia creek landing, in February, 1863 Elizabeth Stuart Phelps' poem A message breathes a faith that inspired the mothers of many men who stand expectantly in this picture, and of many thousands more who, like them, were ‘off to the war’ in 1861-1865. Proud, indeed, were the sweethearts and wives of their ‘heroes’ marching away to the big camps or floating down the stream on the transports. Honor and glory awaited these sons and brothers who were helping to serve their cause. To each fond heart came the hope: ‘Soon the nation will be ringing with my boy'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 dis
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