Poems by George W. Doneghy

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Written In The Danville (KY.) Cemetery.
This song that I sing--
In the attic, unused, there they put it away;
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(Read Before A Meeting Of The Danville Scribbler Club.)
Some sing of the lily, some sing of the rose,
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Where the Cumberland flows on its way to the South,
To Chattanooga's vale, where flows the winding Tennessee,
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You may boast about the landscapes fair so far across the sea
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Facile Princeps.
FEBRUARY 4TH, 1894.
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Sweet Memory! thou faculty divine--
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Fought October 8th, 1862.
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(A PARAPHRASE.)
One Autumn evening, wandering, when the sun was hanging low,
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(With Apologies To Riley.)
When the burning sun of Summer shines from out a brassy sky,
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By magic spell was I entranced
The Springtime am a-comin', and the dogwood soon will bloom,
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By the waters of a river, where the rocks like giants stand,
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It hangs today where it has hung for fifty years or more,
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With its rude walls of stone and its moss-covered roof--
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No matter what the weather was, in good old stage coach days,
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'Twas a place of fifty acres, in a lonely neighborhood,
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I walked within the silent city of the dead,
I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight
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The sun is sinking where the western hills
Bright visions of childhood! How dear to the heart
When the nights are gittin' chilly and the leaves begin to fade,
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