Francis Orrery Ticknor

  • Out of the focal and foremost fire,
    Out of the hospital walls as dire;
    Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene,
    (Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!)
    Spectre! such as you seldom see,
    Little Giffen, of Tennessee!

    “Take him and welcome!” the surgeons...

  • The knightliest of the knightly race
      That, since the days of old,
    Have kept the lamp of chivalry
      Alight in hearts of gold;
    The kindliest of the kindly band
      That, rarely hating ease,
    Yet rode with Spotswood round the land,
      And...

  • A song! What songs have died
      Upon the earth,
    Voices of love and pride—
      Of tears and mirth?
    Fading as hearts forget,
      As shadows flee!
    Vain is the voice of song,
        And yet—
          I sing to thee!

    A song! What ocean...