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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

Found 8 total hits in 4 results.

Columbia (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 83
st! soldier, rest! Not here the flashing of the foeman's sabre; Not here the wide ranks kneel to Death's behest; Naught but the glance of bright eyes kindly beaming; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the whistling of the leaden death-shots-- 'Tis but the Oriole singing o'er her nest; The waving tree-tops whispering peace and quiet; Rest! soldier, rest! See yon fair wife, a white-armed welcome waving! No longer now by deadly fear opprest; What heavenly music is that dear voice saying: Rest! soldier, rest! A mother's kisses greet her first-born darling; O joy! how closely heart to heart is prest; In home, sweet home, she bids the weary wanderer Rest! soldier, rest! Not all who answered to Columbia, calling On her brave sons from North, and East, and West, Can answer now-their voices hushed forever; Rest! soldier, rest! Loud let the bugle swell the note of triumph! Sound, trumpets! praise our bravest and our best! Thousands of voices bid each hero welcome; Rest! soldier, rest!
Framingham (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 83
A welcome home. by Thomas F. Power. Delivered at the Reception of the Framingham members of the Massachusetts Forty-fourth regiment, South-Framingham, June 11, 1863. Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the trumpet pealing, Rousing to arms, shall thrill the patriot breast, For white-robed Peace shall now awhile enfold thee; Rest! soldier, rest! Rest! soldier, rest! the joyous cannon hail thee; The singing trumpets' silvery tones attest That all now bid the war-tried patriot welcome; Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the drenching rain — the weary marching; No fierce besiegers now thy valor test; No bursting shells-guerrilla raids at midnight; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the flashing of the foeman's sabre; Not here the wide ranks kneel to Death's behest; Naught but the glance of bright eyes kindly beaming; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the whistling of the leaden death-shots-- 'Tis but the Oriole singing o'er her nest; The waving tree-tops whispering peace and quiet; Rest! sold
Thomas F. Power (search for this): chapter 83
A welcome home. by Thomas F. Power. Delivered at the Reception of the Framingham members of the Massachusetts Forty-fourth regiment, South-Framingham, June 11, 1863. Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the trumpet pealing, Rousing to arms, shall thrill the patriot breast, For white-robed Peace shall now awhile enfold thee; Rest! soldier, rest! Rest! soldier, rest! the joyous cannon hail thee; The singing trumpets' silvery tones attest That all now bid the war-tried patriot welcome; Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the drenching rain — the weary marching; No fierce besiegers now thy valor test; No bursting shells-guerrilla raids at midnight; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the flashing of the foeman's sabre; Not here the wide ranks kneel to Death's behest; Naught but the glance of bright eyes kindly beaming; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the whistling of the leaden death-shots-- 'Tis but the Oriole singing o'er her nest; The waving tree-tops whispering peace and quiet; Rest! sol
June 11th, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 83
A welcome home. by Thomas F. Power. Delivered at the Reception of the Framingham members of the Massachusetts Forty-fourth regiment, South-Framingham, June 11, 1863. Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the trumpet pealing, Rousing to arms, shall thrill the patriot breast, For white-robed Peace shall now awhile enfold thee; Rest! soldier, rest! Rest! soldier, rest! the joyous cannon hail thee; The singing trumpets' silvery tones attest That all now bid the war-tried patriot welcome; Rest! soldier, rest! Not now the drenching rain — the weary marching; No fierce besiegers now thy valor test; No bursting shells-guerrilla raids at midnight; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the flashing of the foeman's sabre; Not here the wide ranks kneel to Death's behest; Naught but the glance of bright eyes kindly beaming; Rest! soldier, rest! Not here the whistling of the leaden death-shots-- 'Tis but the Oriole singing o'er her nest; The waving tree-tops whispering peace and quiet; Rest! sol