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Page 149 - In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched, hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. "Halt!
Page 76 - Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.
Page 150 - It shivered the window, pane and sash ; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick as it fell, from the broken staff, Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf: She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said. . A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: "Who touches a hair of yon gray...
Page 149 - Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. 'Halt! ' — the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 'Fire! '—out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. 'Shoot, if you must, this old grey head, But spare your country's flag,
Page 356 - They would vote into the post-office, or any hole they could find. Some of them carried home their ballots, greatly smitten with the red lettering and the head of Lincoln, or supposing that they could use them as warrants for land. Others would give them to the first white man who offered to take care of them. One old fellow said to me, ' Lord, marsr ! do for Lord's sake tell me what dis yere 's all about.
Page 150 - Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog ! March on !' he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.
Page 70 - My heart's religion is an earnest love Of all that's good, and beautiful, and true ! My noblest temple is this sky above — This vast pavilion of unclouded blue ; These mountains are my altars, which subdue My wildest passions in their wildest hours ; My hymn is ever many-voiced and new, — From bird and bee, from wind and wave it pours ; My incense is the breath of herbs, leaves, fmits, and flowers.

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