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The Confederate Soldier's Wife
Parting From Her Husband!:

Electronic Edition.

Funding from the Institute of Museum and Library Services
supported the electronic publication of this title.

Text scanned (OCR) by Laura Button
Image scanned by Christie Mawhinney
Text encoded by Patricia L. Walker and Natalia Smith
First edition, 1999
ca. 10K
Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,

        © This work is the property of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.

Call number 3165 Conf. (Rare Book Collection, UNC-CH)

        The electronic edition is a part of the UNC-CH digitization project, Documenting the American South.
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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

LC Subject Headings:

Confederate Soldier's Wife

                         Here is thy trusty blade!
                         Take it, and wield it in a glorious cause;
                         Defend our firesides, battle for the laws
                         Which our forefathers made;
                         And stay, that on thy breast my hand
                         May place the blue cockade!

                         Go forth to conquer; where
                         The battle rages fiercest thou wilt be,
                         And I will glory that my Love is there
                         Struggling for Liberty.

                         Haste to the battle field!
                         Thy country calls thee to the deadly fight--
                         Go forth undaunted in thy manhood's might,
                         Thy noble cause thy shield;
                         And if thou fallest--hush, heart, thine agony--
                         God will defend the right!

                         Where the Palmetto waves
                         O'er manly hearts that struggle to be free,
                         That bid defiance bold to Tyranny;
                         Where hospitable graves
                         Are widely yawning for the reckless foe,
                         My lip can bid thee, best beloved, go!
                         What if thou fallest? my heart will throb to know
                         He died, O South, for thee!