Margaret Junkin Preston

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Margaret Junkin Preston was born on May 19, 1820, in Milton, Pennsylvania, and died on March 28, 1897, in Baltimore, Maryland. She was an American poet and author, best known for her support of the Confederate cause during the Civil War era.

Her father, George Junkin, was a Presbyterian minister and educator. She was talented early on — by age twelve she was studying Latin and Ancient Greek. ([Encyclopedia.com][2]) In 1857 she married John Thomas Lewis Preston, a professor of Latin at the Virginia Military Institute (VMI). Her sister Elinor had married Confederate General “Stonewall” Jackson.

Preston’s work was heavily shaped by her identity in the South during the Civil War. Even though she was born in the North, she aligned herself with the Confederacy and wrote poetry in its defense. She published in major periodicals such as Southern Literary Messenger and Graham’s Magazine, and later in Harper’s Magazine. Her most famous work is a long poem called Beechenbrook: A Rhyme of the War (1865), which mourns the losses of Southern soldiers and reflects deeply on life, duty, and sacrifice.

Preston was sometimes called the “Poetess of the South” or even “Poet Laureate of the Confederacy.” Her style drew on classical education, biblical references, and a strong emotional sense of place. She also wrote prose: her novel Silverwood (1856) shows the tension between older social values and emerging economic realities in the Shenandoah Valley.

Although she wasn’t a soldier, Preston’s life was deeply connected to the military. Her husband taught at VMI, and her sister was married to Stonewall Jackson. Her poetry provided a civilian, Confederate perspective on the war. Through her verse, she argued for honor, duty, and faith.

In her later years, she became blind. Despite her health issues, she kept writing until late in her life. Her works include several volumes of poetry, travel sketches, and odes, such as Old Song and New (1870), Cartoons (1875), and Colonial Ballads, Sonnets and Other Verse (1887).

Preston’s legacy is complicated. During her lifetime, she was well-known in the South. After her death, scholars continued to debate her role: she celebrated the Confederacy in her poetry, which today makes her a controversial figure. But her work remains an important piece of 19th-century American poetry. Her poems preserve the emotional experience of the Civil War from a Southern woman’s point of view. She offers insight into family, faith, loss, and loyalty. Even now, her work is studied by those interested in Southern literature, women’s writing, and the cultural memory of the Civil War.In terms of legacy, Melville was overlooked for much of his life—his verse and novels received mixed reception—but over time scholars recognized his depth and originality. His work now stands among major American literature, not just for Moby-Dick and his sea tales, but for verse that takes war, travel, nature, and human experience seriously. His poetry may not be front-line soldier’s poetry, but it reminds us that literary engagement with war and struggle doesn’t always require uniform and trenches. It can be done through reflection, metaphor, and immersion in life’s extremes. Melville’s life shows how adventure, suffering, observation, and the act of writing combine in a single voice that still speaks today.

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Through the Pass

Margaret Junkin Preston
” Home, —bear me home, at last,” —he said,

” And lay me where my dead are lying,
But not while skies are overspread,

Before Death

Margaret Junkin Preston
I

How much would I care for it, could I know
That when I am under the grass or snow,

Hymn To The National Flag

Margaret Junkin Preston
Float aloft, thou stainless banner!

Azure cross and field of light;
Be thy brilliant stars the symbol

Gone Forward

Margaret Junkin Preston
YES, “Let the tent be struck”: victorious morning

Through every crevice flashes in a day
Magnificent beyond all earth’s adorning:

Only A Private

Margaret Junkin Preston
Only a private — and who will care

When I may pass away,
Or how, or why I perish, or where

A November Nocturne

Margaret Junkin Preston
The autumn air sweeps faint and chill

Across the maple-crested hill;
And on my ear

The Bivouac In The Snow

Margaret Junkin Preston
Halt!–the march is over,

Day is almost done;
Loose the cumbrous knapsack,

Acceptation

Margaret Junkin Preston
We do accept thee, heavenly Peace!

Albeit thou comest in a guise
Unlooked for–undesired, our eyes

STONEWALL JACKSON’S GRAVE

Margaret Junkin Preston
A simple, sodded mound of earth,

Without a line above it;
With only daily votive flowers

DIRGE FOR ASHBY

Margaret Junkin Preston
Heard ye that thrilling word–

Accent of dread–
Flash like a thunderbolt,

JACKSON. A SONNET

Margaret Junkin Preston
Thank God for such a Hero!–Fearless hold

His diamond character beneath the sun,
And brighter scintillations, one by one,

VIRGINIA. A SONNET

Margaret Junkin Preston
Grandly thou fillest the world’s eye to-day,

My proud Virginia! When the gage was thrown–
The deadly gage of battle–thou, alone,

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