The South is a land that has known sorrows; it is a land that has broken the
ashen crust and moistened it with tears; a land scarred and riven by the
plowshare of war and billowed with the graves of her dead; but a land of
legend, a land of song, a land of hallowed and heroic memories. To that land
every drop of my blood, every fiber of my being, every pulsation of my heart,
is consecrated forever. I was born of her womb; I was nurtured at her breast;
and when my last hour shall come, I pray God that I may be pillowed upon her
bosom and rocked to sleep within her tender encircling arms. Edward Carmack

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