George Alfred Townsend

  • Army Correspondent’s Last Ride

    Five Forks, April 1, 1865
    HO! pony. Down the lonely road
      Strike now your cheeriest pace!
    The woods on fire do not burn higher
      Than burns my anxious face;
    Far have you sped, but all this night
      Must feel my nervous spur;
    If we be late,...

  • In Rama

    A little face there was,
      When all her pains were done,
    Beside that face I loved:
      They said it was a son.
    A son to me—how strange!—
      Who never was a man,
    But lived from change to change
      A boy, as I began.

    More boyish still...

  • Army Correspondent's Last Ride

    Ho! pony. Down the lonely road
      Strike now your cheeriest pace!
    The woods on fire do not burn higher
      Than burns my anxious face;
    Far have you sped, but all this night
      Must feel my nervous spur;
    If we be late, the world must wait
      The...