BEECHENBROOK;
A Rhyme of the War.
BY
MARGARET J. PRESTON.
BALTIMORE:
KELLY & PIET, PUBLISHERS,
174 BALTIMORE STREET,
1866.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by KELLY & PIET,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District ofMaryland.
Dedication.
TO
EVERY SOUTHERN WOMAN, WHO HAS BEEN Widowed by the War,I DEDICATE THIS RHYME,PUBLISHED DURING THE PROGRESS OF THE STRUGGLEAND NOW RE-PRODUCED—AS A Faint Memorial of Sufferings,OF WHICH THERE CAN BENO FORGETFULNESS.
M.J.P.
BEECHENBROOK;
A
RHYME OF THE WAR.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
VIRGINIA.
JACKSON.
DIRGE FOR ASHBY.
STONEWALL JACKSON'S GRAVE.[A]
WHEN THE WAR IS OVER.
VIRGINIA CAPTA.
I.
There is sorrow in Beechenbrook Cottage; the day
Has been bright with the earliest glory of May;
The blue of the sky is as tender a blue
As ever the sunshine came shimmering through:
The songs of the birds and the hum of the bees,
As they merrily dart in and out of the trees,—
The blooms of the orchard, as sifting its snows,
It mingles its odors with hawthorn and rose,—
The voice of the brook, as it lapses unseen,—
The laughter of children at play on the green,—
Insist on a picture so cheerful, so fair,
Who ever would dream that a grief could be there!
Has been bright with the earliest glory of May;
The blue of the sky is as tender a blue
As ever the sunshine came shimmering through:
The songs of the birds and the hum of the bees,
As they merrily dart in and out of the trees,—
The blooms of the orchard, as sifting its snows,
It mingles its odors with hawthorn and rose,—
The voice of the brook, as it lapses unseen,—
The laughter of children at play on the green,—
Insist on a picture so cheerful, so fair,
Who ever would dream that a grief could be there!
The last yellow sunbeam slides down from the wall,
The purple of evening is ready to fall;
The gladness of daylight is gone, and the gloom
Of something like sadness is over the room.
Right bravely all day, with a smile on her brow,
Has Alice been true to her duty,—but now
Her tasks are all ended,—naught inside or out,
For the thoughtfullest love to be busy about;
The knapsack well furnished, the canteen all bright,
The soldier's gr
The purple of evening is ready to fall;
The gladness of daylight is gone, and the gloom
Of something like sadness is over the room.
Right bravely all day, with a smile on her brow,
Has Alice been true to her duty,—but now
Her tasks are all ended,—naught inside or out,
For the thoughtfullest love to be busy about;
The knapsack well furnished, the canteen all bright,
The soldier's gr
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