John N. Edwards: Biography, Memoirs, Reminiscences and Recollections; His Brilliant Career as Soldier, Author, and Journalist; Choice Collection of His Most Notable and Interesting Newspaper Articles, Together with Some Unpublished Poems and Many Private Letters. Also a Reprint of Shelby's Expedition to Mexico, an Unwritten Leaf of the War
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American answer arms army asked battle Bazaine beautiful believed better blood body brave called Colonel command dark dead death Democratic devotion died Edwards Emperor Empire eyes face faith fell field fight fire followed force fought France French friends front give gold guard hands head heart held honor horses hour hundred John Kansas City killed kind knew known land light lived look Major Major Edwards matter Maximilian Mexican Mexico Missouri morning nature never night officer once party passed peace perhaps political poor present ranks received rest returned road seen Shelby Shelby's side sleep soldiers spoke stood taken things thought thousand told took true turned voice waiting whole woman wounded writer young
Page 165 - Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead. No rumor of the foe's advance Now swells upon the wind ; No troubled thought at midnight haunts Of loved ones left behind ; No vision of the morrow's strife The warrior's dream alarms ; No braying horn nor screaming fife At dawn shall call to arms.
Page 64 - Statesman, yet friend to Truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, served no private end, Who gained no title, and who lost no friend ; Ennobled by himself, by all approved, And praised, unenvied, by the Muse he loved.
Page 43 - It was the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, till I confess it began to be something of a bore to me.
Page 80 - In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still, In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot, I hesitate to draw a line Between the two, where God has not.
Page 149 - Fair mother, fed with the lives of men, Thou art subtle and cruel of heart, men say; Thou hast taken, and shalt not render again; Thou art full of thy dead, and cold as they. But death is the worst that comes of thee; Thou art fed with our dead, O Mother, O Sea, But when hast thou fed on our hearts? or when Having given us love, hast thou taken away?
Page 165 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground * Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Page 118 - OUT of the focal and foremost fire, Out of the hospital walls as dire; Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene, (Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!) Spectre! such as you seldom see. Little Giffen, of Tennessee! "Take him and welcome!
Page 166 - Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead ! Dear as the blood ye gave ; No impious footstep here shall tread The herbage of your grave; Nor shall your glory be forgot While Fame her record keeps, Or Honor points the hallowed spot Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Page 176 - ... or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.