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THE design of this work was conceived in an individual desire to offer a testimonial of gratitude to the memòries of the brave men who perished in the late ineffectual effort for SOUTHERN INDEPENDENCE; as well as in a wish to render to my Southern sisters some assistance in gathering up the remains of the CONFEDERATE DEAD, from the numberless battle-fields over which they were scattered, and placing them where the rude ploughshare may not upturn their bleaching bones, and where sorrowing friends may at least drop a tear, and lay a flower upon the grasscovered hillocks that mark their resting-places.

Like Ruth after the gleaners of Boaz, I entered the field in expectation of finding only an occasional idyl for my culling; but the growth of Southern sentiment seems destined to be perennial and inexhaustible, and I deeply regret that a vast number of beautiful and worthy productions are compelled for want of space to be crowded out of this volume.

When the grape is crushed, the rich ruddy wine must flow; so when the heart joys or sorrows, it delights to expand its emotion in the flow of verse. The muse of the Southland is one of tireless wing, and though her theme is lofty and glorious as the golden sunset splendor upon the purple sky of evening, her song is often as sad as the

weary echoes of the winter wind through her matchless forests the mournful wailings of broken hearts.

Grateful acknowledgments are here tendered the many kind friends who have so deeply sympathized with and generously assisted me in making this collection. In the language of one whose noble soul is bowed with grief over the martyred slain:-"All we can now do is to sing at the graves of our Dead; but sing as we may, in lofty strains or lowly, our songs can never express all our feelings-can never celebrate all their fame. A crown such as our Dead deserve to wear, will never be wreathed for them, but it is our duty to gather garlands, which if not beautiful enough for their brows, we can humbly lay at their feet."

Therefore, such as it is, dear reader, I cheerfully and proudly present "THE SOUTHERN AMARANTH," hoping it may be considered a not unworthy offering to the memories of men whose deeds are worthy of more than ever songs of poets can tell.

S. A. B.

NEW YORK, March 1, 1868.

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