large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_10_melville_64kb_64
large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_10_melville_64kb
English
7841
Spite shell and round shot, grape and canister, Up they climbed without rail or banister   Up the steep hill sides long and broad, Driving the rebel deep within his works. 'Tis nightfall; not an enemy lurks In sight. The chafing men Fret for more fight: "To night, to night let us take the Den" But night is treacherous, Grant is wary; Of brave blood be a little chary. Patience! the Fort is good as won; To morrow, and into Donelson. SPIKE SHELL AND ROUND SHOT GRAPE AND CANISTER UP THEY CLIMB WITHOUT RAIL OR BANISTER UP THE STEEP HILL SIDES LONG AND BROAD DRIVING THE REBEL DEEP WITHIN HIS WORKS TIS NIGHTFALL NOT AN ENEMY LURKS IN SIGHT THE CHAFING MEN FET MORE FOR FIGHT TO NIGHT TO NIGHT LET US TAKE THE DEN BUT NIGHT IS TREACHEROUS GRANT IS WARY OF BRAVE BLOOD BE A LITTLE CHERRY PATIENCE THE FORD IS GOOD AS ONE TO MORROW AND INTO DONELSON
ed glades, like meadows rare; The blood-drops on the snow-crust there Like clover in the white-week show-- Flushed fields of death, that call again-- Call to our men, and not in vain, For that way must the stormers go. 3 P.M. The work begins. Light drifts of men thrown forward, fade In skirmish-line along the slope, Where some dislodgments must be made Ere the stormer with the strong-hold cope. Lew Wallace, moving to retake The heights late lost-- (Herewith a break. Storms at the West derange the wires. Doubtless, ere morning, we shall hear The end; we look for news to cheer-- Let Hope fan all her fires.)_ Next day in large bold hand was seen The closing bulletin: VICTORY! _Our troops have retrieved the day By one grand surge along the line; The spirit that urged them was divine. The first works flooded, naught could stay The stormers: on! still on! Bayonets for Donelson! Over the ground that morning lost Rolled the blue billows, tempest-tossed, Following a hat on the point of a sword. MORNING'S BATTLE GROUND IS SEEN IN LIFTED GLADES LIKE MEADOWS RARE THE BLOOD DROPS ON THE SNOW CRUST THERE LIKE CLOVER IN THE WHITE WEAK SHOW FLUSH FIELDS OF DEATH THAT CALL AGAIN CALL TO OUR MEN AND NOT IN VAIN FOR THAT WAY MUST THE STORMERS GO THREE P M THE WORK BEGINS LIGHT DRIFTS OF MEN THROWN FORWARD FADE IN SKIRMISH LINES ALONG THE SLOPE WHERE SOME DISLODGMENTS MUST BE MADE ERE THE STORMER WITH THE STRONGHOLD COPE LOU WALLACE MOVING TO RETAKE THE HEIGHTS LATE LOST HEREWITH A BREAK STORM AT THE WEST DERANGE THE WIRES DOUBTLESS ERE MORNING WE SHALL HEAR THE END WE LOOK FOR NEWS TO CHEER LET HOPE FAN ALL HER FIRES NEXT DAY IN LARGE BOLD HAND WAS SEEN THE CLOSING BULLETIN VICTORY OUR TROOPS HAVE RETRIEVED THE DAY BY ONE GRAND SURGE ALONG THE LINE THE SPIRIT THAT URGED THEM WAS DIVINE THE FIRST WORKS FLOODED NAUGHT COULD STAY THE STORMERS ON STILL ON BAYONETS FOR DONAL SON OVER THE GROUND THAT MORNING LOST ROLLED THE BLUE BILLOWS TEMPESTS TOSSED FOLLOWING A HAT ON THE POINT OF A SWORD
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