The Laurel Speaker: Heroic Classic Verse for Boys |
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... DREAM THE COLOR - BEARER THE PICKET - GUARD PAGE 7 8 9 10 12 14 17 18 21 24 26 27 • 31 33 THE CHARGE of the Light BrigaDE 36 THE DEATH RIDE • THE BAYONET CHARGE THE BON HOMME RICHARD CLEAR THE WAY THE SOLDIER FROM BINGEN SHERIDAN'S RIDE ...
... DREAM THE COLOR - BEARER THE PICKET - GUARD PAGE 7 8 9 10 12 14 17 18 21 24 26 27 • 31 33 THE CHARGE of the Light BrigaDE 36 THE DEATH RIDE • THE BAYONET CHARGE THE BON HOMME RICHARD CLEAR THE WAY THE SOLDIER FROM BINGEN SHERIDAN'S RIDE ...
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... ! is all this just ? Think you we do not feel the wrongs we suffer ? The hour of retribution is at hand , And tyrants tremble , -mark me , King of England . THE SOLDIER'S DREAM . THOMAS CAMPBELL . Our bugles sang THE LAUREL SPEAKER 25.
... ! is all this just ? Think you we do not feel the wrongs we suffer ? The hour of retribution is at hand , And tyrants tremble , -mark me , King of England . THE SOLDIER'S DREAM . THOMAS CAMPBELL . Our bugles sang THE LAUREL SPEAKER 25.
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Heroic Classic Verse for Boys. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM . THOMAS CAMPBELL . Our bugles sang truce , for the night - cloud had lowered , And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground over- powered ...
Heroic Classic Verse for Boys. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM . THOMAS CAMPBELL . Our bugles sang truce , for the night - cloud had lowered , And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground over- powered ...
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... dreaming ear melted away . GENERAL SCOTT AND THE VETERAN . BAYARD TAYLOR . An old and crippled veteran to the War Depart- ment came . He sought the Chief who led him , on many a field of fame : The Chief who shouted , " Forward ...
... dreaming ear melted away . GENERAL SCOTT AND THE VETERAN . BAYARD TAYLOR . An old and crippled veteran to the War Depart- ment came . He sought the Chief who led him , on many a field of fame : The Chief who shouted , " Forward ...
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... dream of death and alarm , ( This wild hard week of battle and change ) - Out of the rifle's deadly range— My thoughts are all at the dear old farm . ' Tis green as a sward , by this , I know- The orchard is just beginning to set , They ...
... dream of death and alarm , ( This wild hard week of battle and change ) - Out of the rifle's deadly range— My thoughts are all at the dear old farm . ' Tis green as a sward , by this , I know- The orchard is just beginning to set , They ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms Avès Balaklava banner battle battle's bloody marge beneath Bingen blood blue bonnet of Bonny Bonny Dundee bound brave breath broadswords of old Cannon charge cold Color-Ser cried cuirassier Danny Deever darkness dead death dread dream dying fear fell fierce fight fire flame flash flew forest gallant galloped geant gleam glory grave gray Grigalach guns haloo hand hangin hear heard heart Heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Hiawatha hill horse hurrah JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART King land Laughing light limbs look lord Marmion mighty Minnehaha Morbleu morning Moscow mount night o'er Old North Church old Scotland onward Parbleu Paul Revere proud ride roar ROBERT SOUTHEY rode rolled rose round rush sabre screw-guns Sheridan shout sight SILVER-SHOE SIR WALTER SCOTT six hundred soldier soul spur steed stood storm tell There's THOMAS CAMPBELL thunder Twas wave wild wind wounded
Popular passages
Page 133 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him : he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Page 105 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 68 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!
Page 55 - Up from the south at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble and rumble and roar Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away.
Page 100 - You know, we French stormed Ratisbon : A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day ; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind. Just as perhaps he mused, " My plans That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall...
Page 66 - It was one by the village clock When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows blank and bare Gaze at him with a spectral glare As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
Page 67 - You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball. From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the redcoats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.
Page 63 - Good night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay. Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Page 192 - 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 27 - Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.