The national period

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D.C. Heath & Company, 1908
 

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第 260 頁 - But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
第 182 頁 - On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
第 182 頁 - Her deck once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
第 172 頁 - Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes...
第 184 頁 - In God is our trust"; And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er...
第 12 頁 - There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us.
第 115 頁 - Up with our banner bright, Sprinkled with starry light, Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, While through the sounding sky Loud rings the Nation's cry — Union and Liberty ! One evermore ! Holmee.
第 303 頁 - tis the lullaby Time is singing — Hush, and heed not, for all things pass, Hush, ah, hush! and the Scythes are swinging Over the clover, over the grass ! — Andrew Lang.
第 245 頁 - OH, slow to smite and swift to spare, Gentle and merciful and just ! Who, in the fear of God, didst bear The sword of power, a nation's trust ! In sorrow by thy bier we stand, Amid the awe that hushes all, And speak the anguish of a land That shook with horror at thy fall. Thy task is done ; the bond are free : We bear thee to an honored grave, Whose proudest monument shall be The broken fetters of the slave.
第 284 頁 - Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading No braver battle was won: Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray.

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