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THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN.
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While Northern hands were digging graves to hide his fallen numbers,Their widows weep—though not their slaves: God grant them peaceful slumbers!
Be silent, echoing sylvan reed! for Death's wild bell is knelling,And hearts of mourners break and bleed in many a loyal dwelling:But when War's dread apocalypse has hushed its sevenfold thunder,Such light will flood Columbia's crypts that Gabriel's self must wonder.
