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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for Rouse or search for Rouse in all documents.
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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), Drum. (search)
Drum. by J. R. G. Pitkin.
I. Drum! Drum!
drum! drum! drum! Drum! On they come. While throbs a stern, responsive beat Of martial lines of measured feet, Down, down the stony street. And thousands wait At door and gate, To bless each form Who dares the storm, And every tie Can waive, to die When Treason's hand Assails his land. And thus to greet Brave souls, they meet, While horrid fears Rouse abject tears, And all Appall!
God's will be done-- God bless them all! For such have won Half, ere their call! There woman stands With clonic hands I Such woes infest Her tender breast; Her eyelids drip, While the dumb lip Essays in vain To crush its pain ‘Neath smiling mask-- Self-cruel task! In vain, in vain-- Hearts cannot feign When their full swell Bursts with farewell! That buried face, That shrieking phrase, That dismal chill As horrors thrill-- All, all confess A keen distress! And while thus wildly quakes her woe Drum, drum, drum! On they go! Drum! And loudly throbs that solemn b
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), Requiem. (search)
Requiem. Requiem Aeternam dona iis, Domine ! Give them eternal rest, Father, with thee, On thy paternal breast, God of the free! Dumb is the cannon's throat, Broken the brand, Feebly the pennons float O'er the red land; When, on the battle-field, By the rude torch revealed, Slumber the brave, Pillowed on foes o'erthrown; While round them shriek and groan, Blent with the night-wind's moan. Ceaselessly rave. Them shall the thunder's roar Nevermore, nevermore Rouse up amain. Theirs is that olden sleep, Sacred and golden sleep, Free from all pain. So sleep the dutiful, Dreamless but beautiful, Their duty done; Sinking in tranquil rest, As in the purple west Sinketh the sun. Fast closed the fight round them, Vast rose the night round them, Night at noonday-- Night of the sulph'rous smoke, Glad with the sabre-stroke, Death-shot and thunder-roar, Deluge of human gore, Dreadfullest fray! Oh!
they fought fearfully, Bleeding, but cheerfully, On for the free, Dealing their dying blows, As o