The Laurel Speaker: Heroic Classic Verse for Boys |
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Page 3
... SOLDIER'S 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 ...
... SOLDIER'S 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 ...
Page 4
... SOLDIER'S RETURN THE CHARGE at WaterLOO THE MARCH TO Moscow THE LORD OF BUTRAGO • THE BROADSWORDS OF SCOTLAND BALAKLAVA THE LAST BUCCANIER LOCK THE DOOR , LARISTON OFFICERS DID IT ALL MONTEREY • MACGREGORS GATHERING BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD ...
... SOLDIER'S RETURN THE CHARGE at WaterLOO THE MARCH TO Moscow THE LORD OF BUTRAGO • THE BROADSWORDS OF SCOTLAND BALAKLAVA THE LAST BUCCANIER LOCK THE DOOR , LARISTON OFFICERS DID IT ALL MONTEREY • MACGREGORS GATHERING BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD ...
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... soldier's sepulchre . SONG OF MARION'S MEN . WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT . Our band is few , but true and tried , Our leader frank and bold ; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told . Our fortress is the good greenwood , Our ...
... soldier's sepulchre . SONG OF MARION'S MEN . WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT . Our band is few , but true and tried , Our leader frank and bold ; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told . Our fortress is the good greenwood , Our ...
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... soldier's cup . With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine - top grieves , And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves . Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that Marion leads- The glitter of their rifles ...
... soldier's cup . With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine - top grieves , And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves . Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that Marion leads- The glitter of their rifles ...
Page 25
... King ! 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.
... King ! 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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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.