“Vile, brutal man! and darest thouIn God’s anointed place to preach”—
“Vile, brutal man! and darest thouIn God’s anointed place to preach”—
“Vile, brutal man! and darest thouIn God’s anointed place to preach”—
“Vile, brutal man! and darest thou
In God’s anointed place to preach”—
Our Departed Comrades: By J. Marion Shirer, a Soldier in the Field. (W. G. S.)
“I am sitting alone by a fireThat glimmers on Sugar Loaf’s height,”—
“I am sitting alone by a fireThat glimmers on Sugar Loaf’s height,”—
“I am sitting alone by a fireThat glimmers on Sugar Loaf’s height,”—
“I am sitting alone by a fire
That glimmers on Sugar Loaf’s height,”—
Our Dixie: By a Lady of Augusta, Georgia, 1865. (Im.)
“I heard long since a simple strain,It brought no thrill of joy or pain,”—
“I heard long since a simple strain,It brought no thrill of joy or pain,”—
“I heard long since a simple strain,It brought no thrill of joy or pain,”—
“I heard long since a simple strain,
It brought no thrill of joy or pain,”—
Our Failure: By the Author of “Southrons,” [Mrs. C. A. Warfield]. Beechmore, Kentucky, June 1, 1866. (E. V. M.)
“Yes, we have failed! That iron wordDrove never home its bolt of fate,”—
“Yes, we have failed! That iron wordDrove never home its bolt of fate,”—
“Yes, we have failed! That iron wordDrove never home its bolt of fate,”—
“Yes, we have failed! That iron word
Drove never home its bolt of fate,”—
Our Fallen Brave: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan. January 22, 1862. (Corinth.)
“They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell,The noble patriot band,”—
“They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell,The noble patriot band,”—
“They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell,The noble patriot band,”—
“They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell,
The noble patriot band,”—
Our Faith in ’61: By A. J. Requier. (W. G. S.)
“Not yet one hundred years have flownSince on this very spot,”—
“Not yet one hundred years have flownSince on this very spot,”—
“Not yet one hundred years have flownSince on this very spot,”—
“Not yet one hundred years have flown
Since on this very spot,”—
Our Flag: By Mr. K. of Hampshire Co., Virginia. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“Our battle-flag! behold it wave,In the young morning’s roseate light,”—
“Our battle-flag! behold it wave,In the young morning’s roseate light,”—
“Our battle-flag! behold it wave,In the young morning’s roseate light,”—
“Our battle-flag! behold it wave,
In the young morning’s roseate light,”—
Our Glorious Flag: Air, “Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still.” Vicksburg Song. (Alsb.)
“There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom’s throne,And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own:”—
“There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom’s throne,And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own:”—
“There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom’s throne,And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own:”—
“There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom’s throne,
And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own:”—
Our Hope: Third Edition: by Le Diable Baiteux. (R. B. B. 91.)
“God save our Southern land,God be our trust,”—
“God save our Southern land,God be our trust,”—
“God save our Southern land,God be our trust,”—
“God save our Southern land,
God be our trust,”—
Our Killed in Battle: Sonnet: New Orleans, 1861. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“As swift, glad brooks run towards the mighty sea,And in its heart are lost forevermore,”—
“As swift, glad brooks run towards the mighty sea,And in its heart are lost forevermore,”—
“As swift, glad brooks run towards the mighty sea,And in its heart are lost forevermore,”—
“As swift, glad brooks run towards the mighty sea,
And in its heart are lost forevermore,”—
Our Left: By Francis O. Ticknor, M. D., Georgia. (B. E.)
“From dark to dawn they stoodThat long midsummer day”—
“From dark to dawn they stoodThat long midsummer day”—
“From dark to dawn they stoodThat long midsummer day”—
“From dark to dawn they stood
That long midsummer day”—
Our Marshal Kane: Air, “Roseas’ Dream.” (R. B. B., 51)
“Come and listen to my storyFrom all lies I will refrain,”—
“Come and listen to my storyFrom all lies I will refrain,”—
“Come and listen to my storyFrom all lies I will refrain,”—
“Come and listen to my story
From all lies I will refrain,”—
Our Martyrs: By Paul H. Hayne. (W. G. S.)
“I am sitting lone and weary,On the hearth of my darkened room,”—
“I am sitting lone and weary,On the hearth of my darkened room,”—
“I am sitting lone and weary,On the hearth of my darkened room,”—
“I am sitting lone and weary,
On the hearth of my darkened room,”—
Our Mothers Did So Before Us: Air, “My Mother Did So Before Me:” by Augusta Foster. Foster’s Settlement, Alabama, January 22, 1862. (S. L. M., Ed. Table, Jan. ’62.)
“We are a band of brothers bold,Now fighting for our nation,”—
“We are a band of brothers bold,Now fighting for our nation,”—
“We are a band of brothers bold,Now fighting for our nation,”—
“We are a band of brothers bold,
Now fighting for our nation,”—
Our Nameless Heroes: Inscribed to the author of the “Haversack.” (E. V. M., ’69.)
“Our nameless heroes—glorious band—That for our dear, dear Southern land,”—
“Our nameless heroes—glorious band—That for our dear, dear Southern land,”—
“Our nameless heroes—glorious band—That for our dear, dear Southern land,”—
“Our nameless heroes—glorious band—
That for our dear, dear Southern land,”—
Our Noble Dead: By John E. Hatcher of Alabama. (C. C.)
“We will not wander to the gloomy years,Through whose dark scenes we have so lately passed”—
“We will not wander to the gloomy years,Through whose dark scenes we have so lately passed”—
“We will not wander to the gloomy years,Through whose dark scenes we have so lately passed”—
“We will not wander to the gloomy years,
Through whose dark scenes we have so lately passed”—
Our President: By Fanny Downing. C. S. A., ’64. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“A people spring to being, in whose bounds,Lie mightiest elements of glory,”—
“A people spring to being, in whose bounds,Lie mightiest elements of glory,”—
“A people spring to being, in whose bounds,Lie mightiest elements of glory,”—
“A people spring to being, in whose bounds,
Lie mightiest elements of glory,”—
Our Rights: Song. (West. Res.)
“The stars and stripes, Oh lovely cloth,To hide the tricks of crafty knaves,”—
“The stars and stripes, Oh lovely cloth,To hide the tricks of crafty knaves,”—
“The stars and stripes, Oh lovely cloth,To hide the tricks of crafty knaves,”—
“The stars and stripes, Oh lovely cloth,
To hide the tricks of crafty knaves,”—
Our Southern Dead: By A. Baltimore, October 6, 1862. (R. B. B., p. 91.)
“Mourn for our glorious dead,Gallant men and leaders brave,”—
“Mourn for our glorious dead,Gallant men and leaders brave,”—
“Mourn for our glorious dead,Gallant men and leaders brave,”—
“Mourn for our glorious dead,
Gallant men and leaders brave,”—
Our Southern Land: By Patria Dolorosa. (C. C.)
“The mountains lift aloft their hoary peaks,The rivers to the ocean proudly run,”—
“The mountains lift aloft their hoary peaks,The rivers to the ocean proudly run,”—
“The mountains lift aloft their hoary peaks,The rivers to the ocean proudly run,”—
“The mountains lift aloft their hoary peaks,
The rivers to the ocean proudly run,”—
Our Starry Cross: (Cav.)
“Our starry Cross was first unfurled,On Manassas’ bloody plain,”—
“Our starry Cross was first unfurled,On Manassas’ bloody plain,”—
“Our starry Cross was first unfurled,On Manassas’ bloody plain,”—
“Our starry Cross was first unfurled,
On Manassas’ bloody plain,”—
Our Stonewall’s Grave: By Esperanza. July 4, 1863. (C. C.)
“Stranger, pause at this mound of clay,See it is fresh, and was made today;”—
“Stranger, pause at this mound of clay,See it is fresh, and was made today;”—
“Stranger, pause at this mound of clay,See it is fresh, and was made today;”—
“Stranger, pause at this mound of clay,
See it is fresh, and was made today;”—
Over the (Mississippi) River: By Miss Maria E. Jones. (Alsb.)
“Over the River there are fierce stern meetings,No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;”—
“Over the River there are fierce stern meetings,No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;”—
“Over the River there are fierce stern meetings,No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;”—
“Over the River there are fierce stern meetings,
No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;”—
Over the River: By Jane T. H. Cross. (W. G. S. from the NashvilleChristian Advocate, 1861.)
“We hail your ‘stripes’ and lessened ‘stars’As one may hail a neighbor,”—
“We hail your ‘stripes’ and lessened ‘stars’As one may hail a neighbor,”—
“We hail your ‘stripes’ and lessened ‘stars’As one may hail a neighbor,”—
“We hail your ‘stripes’ and lessened ‘stars’
As one may hail a neighbor,”—
Over the River: By J. Daffore. (E. V. M.)
“Over the river—over the river—There where the soft lying shadows invite,”—
“Over the river—over the river—There where the soft lying shadows invite,”—
“Over the river—over the river—There where the soft lying shadows invite,”—
“Over the river—over the river—
There where the soft lying shadows invite,”—
Over the River: By E. De Mondion. (Amaranth.)
“The camp was hushed, the midnight passed,But the warriors their vigil kept,”—
“The camp was hushed, the midnight passed,But the warriors their vigil kept,”—
“The camp was hushed, the midnight passed,But the warriors their vigil kept,”—
“The camp was hushed, the midnight passed,
But the warriors their vigil kept,”—
Over the River: (The Mississippi): By Rev. J. E. Carnes. (Alsb.)
“Over the river,Our country is massing her band”—
“Over the river,Our country is massing her band”—
“Over the river,Our country is massing her band”—
“Over the river,
Our country is massing her band”—
The Paean of the Coffinless Dead: Douglas, Arkansas, March 6, 1864. (C. C.)
“The paean I sing of the coffinless dead—The heroes who wore the gray”—
“The paean I sing of the coffinless dead—The heroes who wore the gray”—
“The paean I sing of the coffinless dead—The heroes who wore the gray”—
“The paean I sing of the coffinless dead—
The heroes who wore the gray”—
Pardon and Peace: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)
“Pardon and peace! what music in those words,Meet for the angel’s song!”—
“Pardon and peace! what music in those words,Meet for the angel’s song!”—
“Pardon and peace! what music in those words,Meet for the angel’s song!”—
“Pardon and peace! what music in those words,
Meet for the angel’s song!”—
Patience, Patience, O My Spirit!By Kentucky. Oct. 20, 1862. (S. O. S.)
“Patience, patience, O my spirit!Only patience doth inherit”—
“Patience, patience, O my spirit!Only patience doth inherit”—
“Patience, patience, O my spirit!Only patience doth inherit”—
“Patience, patience, O my spirit!
Only patience doth inherit”—
Patriotic Song: Air, “Gathering of the Clans:” by Dr. John W. Paine, of Lexington, Virginia, June 30, 1862. (Fag. from the RichmondDespatch.)
“Rise, rise, mountain and valley men,Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order,”—
“Rise, rise, mountain and valley men,Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order,”—
“Rise, rise, mountain and valley men,Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order,”—
“Rise, rise, mountain and valley men,
Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order,”—
Patriotism: (R. R.)
“The holy fire that nerved the Greek,To make his stand at Marathon,”—
“The holy fire that nerved the Greek,To make his stand at Marathon,”—
“The holy fire that nerved the Greek,To make his stand at Marathon,”—
“The holy fire that nerved the Greek,
To make his stand at Marathon,”—
Patriotism, or Love?(S. O. S.)
“Like a child tossed on the waves in scorn,Without a compass, I float on.”—
“Like a child tossed on the waves in scorn,Without a compass, I float on.”—
“Like a child tossed on the waves in scorn,Without a compass, I float on.”—
“Like a child tossed on the waves in scorn,
Without a compass, I float on.”—
A Patriot’s Death the Sign of a Brighter Morrow: Air, “Tom Moore:” by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)
“In blood the sun is setting,That this morn arose in clouds;”—
“In blood the sun is setting,That this morn arose in clouds;”—
“In blood the sun is setting,That this morn arose in clouds;”—
“In blood the sun is setting,
That this morn arose in clouds;”—
Peace: By L. Burroughs of Savannah, Georgia, April, 1865. (E. V. M.)
“They are ringing Peace on my weary ear,No Peace to this heavy heart,”—
“They are ringing Peace on my weary ear,No Peace to this heavy heart,”—
“They are ringing Peace on my weary ear,No Peace to this heavy heart,”—
“They are ringing Peace on my weary ear,
No Peace to this heavy heart,”—
The Pelican Flag: (Bohemian from the New OrleansSunday Delta.)
“Fling to the Southern windThe banner with its type of motherhood;”—
“Fling to the Southern windThe banner with its type of motherhood;”—
“Fling to the Southern windThe banner with its type of motherhood;”—
“Fling to the Southern wind
The banner with its type of motherhood;”—
Pensacola: By M. Louise Rogers. (Im.)
“O night wind! gently, softly blowOver the loved ones lying so low,”—
“O night wind! gently, softly blowOver the loved ones lying so low,”—
“O night wind! gently, softly blowOver the loved ones lying so low,”—
“O night wind! gently, softly blow
Over the loved ones lying so low,”—
Pensacola: To My Son: By M. S., New Orleans, Louisiana. (R. R.)
“Beautiful the land may beIts groves of palm, its laurel trees,”—
“Beautiful the land may beIts groves of palm, its laurel trees,”—
“Beautiful the land may beIts groves of palm, its laurel trees,”—
“Beautiful the land may be
Its groves of palm, its laurel trees,”—
The People in Grey: By Col. B. H. Jones. Johnson’s Island, May 12, 1865. (Sunny.)
“A noble people were the People in Grey,However derided or slandered;”—
“A noble people were the People in Grey,However derided or slandered;”—
“A noble people were the People in Grey,However derided or slandered;”—
“A noble people were the People in Grey,
However derided or slandered;”—
Picayune Butter: Air, “All on hobbies.” (West. Res.)
“Old Fuss and Feathers, as we knew before,Sent away from down East to sack Baltimore.”—
“Old Fuss and Feathers, as we knew before,Sent away from down East to sack Baltimore.”—
“Old Fuss and Feathers, as we knew before,Sent away from down East to sack Baltimore.”—
“Old Fuss and Feathers, as we knew before,
Sent away from down East to sack Baltimore.”—
A Picture: (E. V. M. from the SavannahMorning News.)
“We were sitting round the tableJust a night or two ago”—
“We were sitting round the tableJust a night or two ago”—
“We were sitting round the tableJust a night or two ago”—
“We were sitting round the table
Just a night or two ago”—
A Pledge to Lee: Written for a Kentucky Company: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield, of Kentucky. (E. V. M.)
“We pledge thee, Lee!In water or wine,”—
“We pledge thee, Lee!In water or wine,”—
“We pledge thee, Lee!In water or wine,”—
“We pledge thee, Lee!
In water or wine,”—
Poem on the Death of Jackson: (Killed by a New York Zouave in Alexandria, Virginia. May 24, 1861.) (E. V. M.)
“Not where the battle red,Covers with fame the dead,”—
“Not where the battle red,Covers with fame the dead,”—
“Not where the battle red,Covers with fame the dead,”—
“Not where the battle red,
Covers with fame the dead,”—
A Poem Which Needs No Dedication: By James Barron Hope. (R. R.)
“What! you hold yourselves as freemen?Tyrants love just such as ye!”—
“What! you hold yourselves as freemen?Tyrants love just such as ye!”—
“What! you hold yourselves as freemen?Tyrants love just such as ye!”—
“What! you hold yourselves as freemen?
Tyrants love just such as ye!”—
Polk: By H. L. Flash. (E. V. M.)
“A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,A puff of smoke, a roar”—
“A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,A puff of smoke, a roar”—
“A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,A puff of smoke, a roar”—
“A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,
A puff of smoke, a roar”—
The Poor Soldier: A popular camp song of the sixty-second Alabama Regiment (The Boy Regiment). (C. S. B.)
“Little do rich people knowWhat we poor soldiers undergo”—
“Little do rich people knowWhat we poor soldiers undergo”—
“Little do rich people knowWhat we poor soldiers undergo”—
“Little do rich people know
What we poor soldiers undergo”—
Pop Goes the Weasel: (J. M. S.)
“King Abraham is very sick,Old Scott has got the measles,”—
“King Abraham is very sick,Old Scott has got the measles,”—
“King Abraham is very sick,Old Scott has got the measles,”—
“King Abraham is very sick,
Old Scott has got the measles,”—
Pope: To the tune of Bo-Peep. (C. S. B.)
“Poor Johnnie Pope,Has lost his coat,”—
“Poor Johnnie Pope,Has lost his coat,”—
“Poor Johnnie Pope,Has lost his coat,”—
“Poor Johnnie Pope,
Has lost his coat,”—
Praeterita: By S. D. D. In Camp, December 28th, 1863. (S. L. M., Feb., ’64.)
“I see in the shadows nightly,The dream of a girlish face,”—
“I see in the shadows nightly,The dream of a girlish face,”—
“I see in the shadows nightly,The dream of a girlish face,”—
“I see in the shadows nightly,
The dream of a girlish face,”—
Pray, Maiden, Pray!A Ballad for the Times: Respectfully dedicated to the patriotic women of the South: by A. W. Kercheval, Esq., music by A. J. Turner; published by Geo. Dunn & Co., Richmond, Va. (R. B. M., 1864.)
“Maiden, pray for thy lover now,Thro’ all this starry night,”—
“Maiden, pray for thy lover now,Thro’ all this starry night,”—
“Maiden, pray for thy lover now,Thro’ all this starry night,”—
“Maiden, pray for thy lover now,
Thro’ all this starry night,”—
Prayer: (These verses were written by a deaf and dumb girl of Savannah, Georgia, on the occasion of a fast day.) (E. V. M.)
“Before thy throne, O God!Upon this blood-wet sod,”—
“Before thy throne, O God!Upon this blood-wet sod,”—
“Before thy throne, O God!Upon this blood-wet sod,”—
“Before thy throne, O God!
Upon this blood-wet sod,”—
Prayer: By Fadette. (Amaranth.)
“Lord God of Hosts! we lift our hearts to thee!Our streaming eyes lift daily toward thy Throne”—
“Lord God of Hosts! we lift our hearts to thee!Our streaming eyes lift daily toward thy Throne”—
“Lord God of Hosts! we lift our hearts to thee!Our streaming eyes lift daily toward thy Throne”—
“Lord God of Hosts! we lift our hearts to thee!
Our streaming eyes lift daily toward thy Throne”—
Prayer for Maryland: The National Prayer slightly altered from the original of Bishop Whitingham, to suit the present highly favored condition of the people of Maryland. (R. B. B. 82.)
“From Lincoln to Hick’sFrom Dodge and old Dix,”—
“From Lincoln to Hick’sFrom Dodge and old Dix,”—
“From Lincoln to Hick’sFrom Dodge and old Dix,”—
“From Lincoln to Hick’s
From Dodge and old Dix,”—
Prayer For My Only Son, Aged Fifteen, Now in the Service of His Country: Memphis, July 26, 1864. (Amaranth.)
“God bless my daring, venturous boy,Where’er his feet may stray,”—
“God bless my daring, venturous boy,Where’er his feet may stray,”—
“God bless my daring, venturous boy,Where’er his feet may stray,”—
“God bless my daring, venturous boy,
Where’er his feet may stray,”—
A Prayer for Peace: By Major S. Yates Levy: (Sunny.)
“Almighty God! Eternal Sire and King!Ruler Supreme! who all things didst create,”—
“Almighty God! Eternal Sire and King!Ruler Supreme! who all things didst create,”—
“Almighty God! Eternal Sire and King!Ruler Supreme! who all things didst create,”—
“Almighty God! Eternal Sire and King!
Ruler Supreme! who all things didst create,”—
A Prayer for Peace: By G. H. S. Charleston, South Carolina. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., 63). (From theRecord.)
“Look forth, look forth, from the pale hills of time,Which, deepening in the distance, rise and swell,”—
“Look forth, look forth, from the pale hills of time,Which, deepening in the distance, rise and swell,”—
“Look forth, look forth, from the pale hills of time,Which, deepening in the distance, rise and swell,”—
“Look forth, look forth, from the pale hills of time,
Which, deepening in the distance, rise and swell,”—
A Prayer for Peace: By S. Teackle Wallis, of Maryland. (S. S.)
“Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!Unto our cry of anguish and despair,”—
“Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!Unto our cry of anguish and despair,”—
“Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!Unto our cry of anguish and despair,”—
“Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!
Unto our cry of anguish and despair,”—
A Prayer for the South: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)
“Oh God! my heart goes up to TheeFor our brave men on land and sea,”—
“Oh God! my heart goes up to TheeFor our brave men on land and sea,”—
“Oh God! my heart goes up to TheeFor our brave men on land and sea,”—
“Oh God! my heart goes up to Thee
For our brave men on land and sea,”—
Prayer of the South: By Father Abram J. Ryan. (Sunny.)
“My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!My face is wan and white with many woes,”—
“My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!My face is wan and white with many woes,”—
“My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!My face is wan and white with many woes,”—
“My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!
My face is wan and white with many woes,”—
President Davis: By Jane T. H. Cross. (W. G. S., published in the New YorkNews, 1865.)
“The cell is lonely and the nightHas filled it with a darker light,”—
“The cell is lonely and the nightHas filled it with a darker light,”—
“The cell is lonely and the nightHas filled it with a darker light,”—
“The cell is lonely and the night
Has filled it with a darker light,”—
The President’s Chair: Air, “Star Spangled Banner.” (West. Res.)
“Ye Southrons arouse, and do battle, nor yieldTo the black northern hordes now infesting your borders,”—
“Ye Southrons arouse, and do battle, nor yieldTo the black northern hordes now infesting your borders,”—
“Ye Southrons arouse, and do battle, nor yieldTo the black northern hordes now infesting your borders,”—
“Ye Southrons arouse, and do battle, nor yield
To the black northern hordes now infesting your borders,”—
The Price of Peace: By Luola. [Mrs. Loula W. Rogers, of Ga.] (E. V. M.)
“A woman paced with hurried step, her lone and dreary cell—The setting sun, with golden ray upon her dark hair fell,”—
“A woman paced with hurried step, her lone and dreary cell—The setting sun, with golden ray upon her dark hair fell,”—
“A woman paced with hurried step, her lone and dreary cell—The setting sun, with golden ray upon her dark hair fell,”—
“A woman paced with hurried step, her lone and dreary cell—
The setting sun, with golden ray upon her dark hair fell,”—
The Printers of Virginia to “Old Abe:”By Harry C. Treakle, Norfolk, Virginia, April 4, 1862. (R. R.)
“Though we’re exempt, we’re not the metalTo keep in when duty calls:”—
“Though we’re exempt, we’re not the metalTo keep in when duty calls:”—
“Though we’re exempt, we’re not the metalTo keep in when duty calls:”—
“Though we’re exempt, we’re not the metal
To keep in when duty calls:”—
Prison on Lake Erie: By Asa Hartz, [Major George McKnight] Johnson’s Island, February 1864. (W. L.)
“The full round moon in God’s blue bendGlides o’er her path so queenly,”—
“The full round moon in God’s blue bendGlides o’er her path so queenly,”—
“The full round moon in God’s blue bendGlides o’er her path so queenly,”—
“The full round moon in God’s blue bend
Glides o’er her path so queenly,”—
Prison Reveries—Storm: By H. W. B., of Kentucky. Johnson’s Island, August, 1863. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“The storm-capped waves are fiercely breakingWith sullen roll and snowy crest,”—
“The storm-capped waves are fiercely breakingWith sullen roll and snowy crest,”—
“The storm-capped waves are fiercely breakingWith sullen roll and snowy crest,”—
“The storm-capped waves are fiercely breaking
With sullen roll and snowy crest,”—
The Prisoner’s Dream: By Col. B. H. Jones, Johnson’s Island, November, 1864. (Sunny.)
“I dreamed ’twas the Sabbath day, Letitia,The sky serene and blue,”—
“I dreamed ’twas the Sabbath day, Letitia,The sky serene and blue,”—
“I dreamed ’twas the Sabbath day, Letitia,The sky serene and blue,”—
“I dreamed ’twas the Sabbath day, Letitia,
The sky serene and blue,”—
A Prisoner’s Fancy: By Col. W. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)
“Though I rest in a Prison, and long miles between us be,Past the guards and through the distance, sweet, my soulgoes out to thee”—
“Though I rest in a Prison, and long miles between us be,Past the guards and through the distance, sweet, my soulgoes out to thee”—
“Though I rest in a Prison, and long miles between us be,Past the guards and through the distance, sweet, my soulgoes out to thee”—
“Though I rest in a Prison, and long miles between us be,
Past the guards and through the distance, sweet, my soul
goes out to thee”—
Prisoner’s Lament: By Captain Clarkson of Missouri. Set to music by D. O. Booker of Tennessee, while both were prisoners of war on Johnson’s Island. (Hubner.)
“My home is on a sea-girt isle,Far far away from thee”—
“My home is on a sea-girt isle,Far far away from thee”—
“My home is on a sea-girt isle,Far far away from thee”—
“My home is on a sea-girt isle,
Far far away from thee”—
The Prisoner of State: A. D., 1865. (C. C.)
“I see him in his loathsome cellThe martyr of a ruined cause,”—
“I see him in his loathsome cellThe martyr of a ruined cause,”—
“I see him in his loathsome cellThe martyr of a ruined cause,”—
“I see him in his loathsome cell
The martyr of a ruined cause,”—
A Private in the Ranks: Suggested by a chapter in “Macaria.” By C. E. McC. Dauphin Island, May 5, A. D. 1864. (C. C.)
“No tinselled bar his collar bears;No epaulette or star,”—
“No tinselled bar his collar bears;No epaulette or star,”—
“No tinselled bar his collar bears;No epaulette or star,”—
“No tinselled bar his collar bears;
No epaulette or star,”—
Privates in the Ranks: By Lieut. E. C. McCarthy. (Sunny.)
“No golden bar his collar wears,No epaulette or star,”—
“No golden bar his collar wears,No epaulette or star,”—
“No golden bar his collar wears,No epaulette or star,”—
“No golden bar his collar wears,
No epaulette or star,”—
Private Maguire: (Alsb.)
“Ach, its nate to be Captain or Colonel,Divil a bit would I want to be higher;”—
“Ach, its nate to be Captain or Colonel,Divil a bit would I want to be higher;”—
“Ach, its nate to be Captain or Colonel,Divil a bit would I want to be higher;”—
“Ach, its nate to be Captain or Colonel,
Divil a bit would I want to be higher;”—
Pro Aris et Focis: Song of the Spartan Rifleman: 1861. (R. N. S. from the SpartansburgExpress.)
“Our banner the gift of the gentle and fair,How proudly it floats in the morning air,”—
“Our banner the gift of the gentle and fair,How proudly it floats in the morning air,”—
“Our banner the gift of the gentle and fair,How proudly it floats in the morning air,”—
“Our banner the gift of the gentle and fair,
How proudly it floats in the morning air,”—
Pro Memoria: Air, “There is rest for the weary.” By Ina M. Porter, of Alabama. (W. G. S.)
“Lo! the Southland Queen, emergingFrom her sad and wintry gloom,”—
“Lo! the Southland Queen, emergingFrom her sad and wintry gloom,”—
“Lo! the Southland Queen, emergingFrom her sad and wintry gloom,”—
“Lo! the Southland Queen, emerging
From her sad and wintry gloom,”—
Prometheus Vinctus: By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M. ’69.)
“Prometheus on the cold rock bound,The vulture at his heart,”—
“Prometheus on the cold rock bound,The vulture at his heart,”—
“Prometheus on the cold rock bound,The vulture at his heart,”—
“Prometheus on the cold rock bound,
The vulture at his heart,”—
Promise of Spring: (W. G. S.)
“The sun-beguiling breeze,From the soft Cuban seas,”—
“The sun-beguiling breeze,From the soft Cuban seas,”—
“The sun-beguiling breeze,From the soft Cuban seas,”—
“The sun-beguiling breeze,
From the soft Cuban seas,”—
Prosopopeia—Virginia’s Call to Arms: March, 1861. (S. L. M., April, 1861.)
“Come from your mountain regions,Come from your plains afar,”—
“Come from your mountain regions,Come from your plains afar,”—
“Come from your mountain regions,Come from your plains afar,”—
“Come from your mountain regions,
Come from your plains afar,”—
Quam diu tandem abutere patientia no: By B., Baltimore, June 30, 1861. (R. B. B. 4.)
“Come gentle muse, give me your aid,Keen make my pen as Ashby’s blade”—
“Come gentle muse, give me your aid,Keen make my pen as Ashby’s blade”—
“Come gentle muse, give me your aid,Keen make my pen as Ashby’s blade”—
“Come gentle muse, give me your aid,
Keen make my pen as Ashby’s blade”—
Quantrell’s Call: Air, “Pirate’s Serenade.” (Im.)
“Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west,And we must be gone at the dawn of the day,”—
“Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west,And we must be gone at the dawn of the day,”—
“Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west,And we must be gone at the dawn of the day,”—
“Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west,
And we must be gone at the dawn of the day,”—
Rachel of Rama, St. Matthew II, 18: By Christopher Waife. S. W. Virginia, January 4, 1863. (S. L. M., August ’63.)
“When the river floweth,Floweth to the sea,”—
“When the river floweth,Floweth to the sea,”—
“When the river floweth,Floweth to the sea,”—
“When the river floweth,
Floweth to the sea,”—
Rally Around the Stars and Bars: By Robert Lamp, 51st Georgia Vols. (R. B. B. 94.)
“Rally round your country’s flag, ye freemen of the South,Gird on your armor for the fray, go ye to battle forth,”—
“Rally round your country’s flag, ye freemen of the South,Gird on your armor for the fray, go ye to battle forth,”—
“Rally round your country’s flag, ye freemen of the South,Gird on your armor for the fray, go ye to battle forth,”—
“Rally round your country’s flag, ye freemen of the South,
Gird on your armor for the fray, go ye to battle forth,”—
Rally of the South: [By C. B. Northrup]. (Outcast.)
“Gallant men of Southern blood,”—
“Gallant men of Southern blood,”—
“Gallant men of Southern blood,”—
“Gallant men of Southern blood,”—
Rally Round the Flag, Boys!(Army.)
“We are marching to the field, boys, we are going to the fight,Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”—
“We are marching to the field, boys, we are going to the fight,Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”—
“We are marching to the field, boys, we are going to the fight,Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”—
“We are marching to the field, boys, we are going to the fight,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”—
Rally Round the Standard, Boys: (R. B. B. 94.)
“My heart is in the South, boys, my heart is not here,We will rally round the South, boys, for liberty, so dear,”—
“My heart is in the South, boys, my heart is not here,We will rally round the South, boys, for liberty, so dear,”—
“My heart is in the South, boys, my heart is not here,We will rally round the South, boys, for liberty, so dear,”—
“My heart is in the South, boys, my heart is not here,
We will rally round the South, boys, for liberty, so dear,”—
Rallying Song of the Virginians: Air, “Scots, wha hae:” By Susan Archer Talley. S. L. M., Ed. Table, June, 1861. (E. V. M.)
“Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,And ready stand, in war’s array,”—
“Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,And ready stand, in war’s array,”—
“Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,And ready stand, in war’s array,”—
“Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,
And ready stand, in war’s array,”—
Ranger’s Farewell: By ——, of Col. Wm. H. Parson’s Regiment. (Alsb.)
“Come fathers, sons and brothers! it is your country’s call!If you’ve the heart and courage to face a cannon ball!”—
“Come fathers, sons and brothers! it is your country’s call!If you’ve the heart and courage to face a cannon ball!”—
“Come fathers, sons and brothers! it is your country’s call!If you’ve the heart and courage to face a cannon ball!”—
“Come fathers, sons and brothers! it is your country’s call!
If you’ve the heart and courage to face a cannon ball!”—
Ranger’s Lay: Air, “I’ll hang my harp on the willow tree.” By Mrs. Mary L. Wilson. (Alsb.)
“Here, for the cause that the valiant love, we claim the right to die!On the battle field shall our sabres prove that right is valued high,”—
“Here, for the cause that the valiant love, we claim the right to die!On the battle field shall our sabres prove that right is valued high,”—
“Here, for the cause that the valiant love, we claim the right to die!On the battle field shall our sabres prove that right is valued high,”—
“Here, for the cause that the valiant love, we claim the right to die!
On the battle field shall our sabres prove that right is valued high,”—
Ranger’s Parting Song: By G. W. Archer, M. D. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“A mystic spell lures men to dwellFar far from wilds away,”—
“A mystic spell lures men to dwellFar far from wilds away,”—
“A mystic spell lures men to dwellFar far from wilds away,”—
“A mystic spell lures men to dwell
Far far from wilds away,”—
Rappahannock Army Song: By John C. McLemore. (W. G. S., from the RichmondEnquirer.)
“The toil of the march is over—The pack will be borne no more”—
“The toil of the march is over—The pack will be borne no more”—
“The toil of the march is over—The pack will be borne no more”—
“The toil of the march is over—
The pack will be borne no more”—
Raden-Linden: By Col. B. H. Jones, Prisoner of War, Johnson’s Island, November 3, 1864. (C. S. B.)
“In prison, when the sun was up,Each ‘reb’ licked clean his plate and cup”—
“In prison, when the sun was up,Each ‘reb’ licked clean his plate and cup”—
“In prison, when the sun was up,Each ‘reb’ licked clean his plate and cup”—
“In prison, when the sun was up,
Each ‘reb’ licked clean his plate and cup”—
Reading the List: (W. G. S.)
“Is there any news of the war? she said—Only a list of the wounded and dead,”—
“Is there any news of the war? she said—Only a list of the wounded and dead,”—
“Is there any news of the war? she said—Only a list of the wounded and dead,”—
“Is there any news of the war? she said—
Only a list of the wounded and dead,”—
The Reaper: Fort Taylord, N. C. (E. V. M.)
“The apples are ripe in the orchard,The work of the reaper’s begun,”—
“The apples are ripe in the orchard,The work of the reaper’s begun,”—
“The apples are ripe in the orchard,The work of the reaper’s begun,”—
“The apples are ripe in the orchard,
The work of the reaper’s begun,”—
The Reason Why: By Col. B. N. Jones. (Sunny.)
“From streets and alleys float afar,The moanings of this famine war,”—
“From streets and alleys float afar,The moanings of this famine war,”—
“From streets and alleys float afar,The moanings of this famine war,”—
“From streets and alleys float afar,
The moanings of this famine war,”—
The Reason “Why:”By Rev. John Collins McCabe, D.D. Richmond, 1862. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., 1862.)
“Is it ‘beyond all wonder’ how amid the battle thunder,They can fight, those ‘ragged wretches,’ while your well dressedsoldiers fly,”—
“Is it ‘beyond all wonder’ how amid the battle thunder,They can fight, those ‘ragged wretches,’ while your well dressedsoldiers fly,”—
“Is it ‘beyond all wonder’ how amid the battle thunder,They can fight, those ‘ragged wretches,’ while your well dressedsoldiers fly,”—
“Is it ‘beyond all wonder’ how amid the battle thunder,
They can fight, those ‘ragged wretches,’ while your well dressed
soldiers fly,”—
Rebel Prisoner: (Alsb.)
“One morning, one morning, one morning in May,I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say:”—
“One morning, one morning, one morning in May,I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say:”—
“One morning, one morning, one morning in May,I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say:”—
“One morning, one morning, one morning in May,
I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say:”—
The Rebel Sock: By Mrs. M. B. Clarke. (E. V. M., ’69.)
“In all the pomp and pride of warThe Lincolnite was dressed,”—
“In all the pomp and pride of warThe Lincolnite was dressed,”—
“In all the pomp and pride of warThe Lincolnite was dressed,”—
“In all the pomp and pride of war
The Lincolnite was dressed,”—
A Rebel Soldier, Killed in the Trenches Before Petersburg, Va., April 15, 1865: By A Kentucky Girl. (W. G. S.)
“Killed in the trenches! How cold and bareThe inscription graved on the white card there”—
“Killed in the trenches! How cold and bareThe inscription graved on the white card there”—
“Killed in the trenches! How cold and bareThe inscription graved on the white card there”—
“Killed in the trenches! How cold and bare
The inscription graved on the white card there”—
Rebel Toasts: Or Drink It Down!(Alsb.)
“O, here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,Here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,”—
“O, here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,Here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,”—
“O, here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,Here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,”—
“O, here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,
Here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,”—
Rebel’s Dream: By A. F. Leovy. (Fag.)
“Softly in dreams of repose,A vision so pure and so sweet,”—
“Softly in dreams of repose,A vision so pure and so sweet,”—
“Softly in dreams of repose,A vision so pure and so sweet,”—
“Softly in dreams of repose,
A vision so pure and so sweet,”—
Rebel’s Requiem: By Col. M. V. Moore of Auburn, Alabama. (Hubner.)
“Oh, give him a grave when the victory’s wonIn the dust of his own dear clime,”—
“Oh, give him a grave when the victory’s wonIn the dust of his own dear clime,”—
“Oh, give him a grave when the victory’s wonIn the dust of his own dear clime,”—
“Oh, give him a grave when the victory’s won
In the dust of his own dear clime,”—
Rebel’s Retort: Air, “Cocachelunk.” (R. B. B., 96.)
“Tell us not we will make blunders,That our hopes are but a dream,”—
“Tell us not we will make blunders,That our hopes are but a dream,”—
“Tell us not we will make blunders,That our hopes are but a dream,”—
“Tell us not we will make blunders,
That our hopes are but a dream,”—
Rebels! ’Tis a Holy Name: By Rev. Mr. Garesche, of St. Louis. (E. V. M. from the AtlantaConfederacy.)
“Rebels! ’Tis a holy name,The name our father’s bore,”—
“Rebels! ’Tis a holy name,The name our father’s bore,”—
“Rebels! ’Tis a holy name,The name our father’s bore,”—
“Rebels! ’Tis a holy name,
The name our father’s bore,”—
Recapture of Galveston: Air, “Happy Land of Canaan.” By M. E. Beaver. (Alsb.)
“Now all you girls and boysOpen your ears and hush your noise,”—
“Now all you girls and boysOpen your ears and hush your noise,”—
“Now all you girls and boysOpen your ears and hush your noise,”—
“Now all you girls and boys
Open your ears and hush your noise,”—
Recognition of the Southern Confederacy: Air, “Rosseau’s Dream.” (West. Res.)
“Recognize us, recognize us,From the South the noble cry,”—
“Recognize us, recognize us,From the South the noble cry,”—
“Recognize us, recognize us,From the South the noble cry,”—
“Recognize us, recognize us,
From the South the noble cry,”—
The Recompense: By Captain J. B. Clarke, 18th Miss. Infantry. (Sunny.)
“From out the Irish peasant’s hutThere came a doleful wail,”—
“From out the Irish peasant’s hutThere came a doleful wail,”—
“From out the Irish peasant’s hutThere came a doleful wail,”—
“From out the Irish peasant’s hut
There came a doleful wail,”—
The Recruiting Sergeant: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)
“I am a Southern Recruiting Sergeant, oho!The way that the ranks can be filled up I know”—
“I am a Southern Recruiting Sergeant, oho!The way that the ranks can be filled up I know”—
“I am a Southern Recruiting Sergeant, oho!The way that the ranks can be filled up I know”—
“I am a Southern Recruiting Sergeant, oho!
The way that the ranks can be filled up I know”—
Redeemed!By a Prisoner in solitary confinement, May 31, 1865. (W. L.)
“What, though the wrong, I have defiedAnd smote it with the fleshy sword;”—
“What, though the wrong, I have defiedAnd smote it with the fleshy sword;”—
“What, though the wrong, I have defiedAnd smote it with the fleshy sword;”—
“What, though the wrong, I have defied
And smote it with the fleshy sword;”—
The Red Zouave: (S. L. M., Nov., 1861.)
“The stars were bright, the breeze was stillThe cicada and the whippoorwill”—
“The stars were bright, the breeze was stillThe cicada and the whippoorwill”—
“The stars were bright, the breeze was stillThe cicada and the whippoorwill”—
“The stars were bright, the breeze was still
The cicada and the whippoorwill”—
Reddato Gladium!Virginia to Winfield Scott. By E. W. S. L. M., November and December, 1862. (W. G. S. from the RichmondWhig.)
“A voice is heard in Ramah!High sounds are in the gale!”—
“A voice is heard in Ramah!High sounds are in the gale!”—
“A voice is heard in Ramah!High sounds are in the gale!”—
“A voice is heard in Ramah!
High sounds are in the gale!”—
Re-Enlist: By Mrs. Margarita J. Canedo. (S. B. P.)
“What! shall we now throw down the blade,And doff the helmet from our brows?”—
“What! shall we now throw down the blade,And doff the helmet from our brows?”—
“What! shall we now throw down the blade,And doff the helmet from our brows?”—
“What! shall we now throw down the blade,
And doff the helmet from our brows?”—
Regulus: By Margaret J. Preston. (E. V. M.)
“Have ye no mercy? Punic rageBoasted small skill in torture, when”—
“Have ye no mercy? Punic rageBoasted small skill in torture, when”—
“Have ye no mercy? Punic rageBoasted small skill in torture, when”—
“Have ye no mercy? Punic rage
Boasted small skill in torture, when”—
Requiem for 1861: By H. C. B. (Bohemian from theSouthern Field and Fireside.)
“Year of terror, year of strifeYear with evil passions rife,”—
“Year of terror, year of strifeYear with evil passions rife,”—
“Year of terror, year of strifeYear with evil passions rife,”—
“Year of terror, year of strife
Year with evil passions rife,”—
Retreat of the Grand Army from Bull Run: Air, “Sweet Evelina.” By Ernest Clifton, (Mr. Piersol of Baltimore,) Baltimore, Maryland. (R. B. B., 11.)
“Way down in Virginia,That glorious old State,”—
“Way down in Virginia,That glorious old State,”—
“Way down in Virginia,That glorious old State,”—
“Way down in Virginia,
That glorious old State,”—
Retreat of the 60,000 Lincoln Troops: July 15, 1861. (R. B. B., 95.)
“’Twas a clear and a beautiful day,And the sun was in the sky,”—
“’Twas a clear and a beautiful day,And the sun was in the sky,”—
“’Twas a clear and a beautiful day,And the sun was in the sky,”—
“’Twas a clear and a beautiful day,
And the sun was in the sky,”—
The Return: (W. G. S.)
“Three years! I wonder if she’ll know me?I limp a little, and I left one arm”—
“Three years! I wonder if she’ll know me?I limp a little, and I left one arm”—
“Three years! I wonder if she’ll know me?I limp a little, and I left one arm”—
“Three years! I wonder if she’ll know me?
I limp a little, and I left one arm”—
The Return Home: Philadelphia, July, 1865. (W. L.)
“Aye, give them welcome home, fair South!For you they’ve made a deathless name;”—
“Aye, give them welcome home, fair South!For you they’ve made a deathless name;”—
“Aye, give them welcome home, fair South!For you they’ve made a deathless name;”—
“Aye, give them welcome home, fair South!
For you they’ve made a deathless name;”—
Rich Mountain: By William H. Holcombe, M.D. (S. L. M., Nov., 1861.)