June Fourteenth
A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,
A puff of smoke, a roar
Whose echo shall roll from the Kenesaw Hills
To the farthermost Christian shore,
Proclaims to the world that the warrior priest
Will battle for right no more.
Henry Lynden Flash
Gen. Leonidas Polk, the Warrior Bishop, killed at Kenesaw Mountain, 1864
June Fifteenth
O, Art, high gift of Heaven! how oft defamed
When seeming praised! To most a craft that fits,
By dead, prescriptive Rule, the scattered bits
Of gathered knowledge; even so misnamed
By some who would invoke thee.
Washington Allston
June Sixteenth
W’en banjer git ter talkin’
You better hol’ yo’ tongue,
Hit mek you think youse gre’t an’ gran’
An’ rich an’ strong an’ young,
An’ ev’rything whar scrumpshus
Right at yo’ feet is flung.
Oh, my soul gits up an’ humps hisse’f
An’ goes outside an’ walks,
W’en a picker gits ter pickin’
An’ de
banjer
talks!
Anne Virginia Culbertson
Winchester captured by Confederates, 1863