Henry Timrod (1828-1867) the Poet Laureate of the Confederacy.
How grace this hallowed day?
Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
Round which the children play?
Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
Round which the children play?
Alas! for many a moon,
That tongueless tower hath cleaved the Sabbath air,
Mute as an obelisk of ice, aglare
Beneath an Arctic noon.
That tongueless tower hath cleaved the Sabbath air,
Mute as an obelisk of ice, aglare
Beneath an Arctic noon.
Shame to the foes that drown
Our psalms of worship with their impious drum,
The sweetest chimes in all the land lie dumb
In some far rustic town.
Our psalms of worship with their impious drum,
The sweetest chimes in all the land lie dumb
In some far rustic town.
More @ The Abbeville Institute
Perfect! Mary Christmas, Brock, and a wonderful New Year.
ReplyDelete& the same to you!
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