large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_10_melville_64kb_56
large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_10_melville_64kb
English
7841
_ The man who read this to the crowd Shouted as the end he gained; And though the unflagging tempest rained, They answered him aloud. And hand grasped hand, and glances met In happy triumph; eyes grew wet. O, to the punches brewed that night Went little water. Windows bright Beamed rosy on the sleet without, And from the deep street came the frequent shout; While some in prayer, as these in glee, Blessed heaven for the winter victory. THE MAN WHO READ THIS TO THE CROWD SHOUTED AS THE END HE GAINED AND THOUGH THE UNFLAGGING TEMPEST REIGNED THEY ANSWERED HIM ALOUD AND HAND GRASPED HAND AND GLANCES MET IN HAPPY TRIUMPH EYES GREW WET OH TO THE PUNCHES BREWED THAT NIGHT WENT LITTLE WATER WINDOWS BRIGHT BEAMED ROSY ON THE SLEET WITHOUT AND FROM THE DEEP STREET CAME THE FREQUENT SHOUT WHILE SOME IN PRAYER AS THESE IN GLEE BLESSED HEAVEN FOR THE WINTER VICTORY
imbed 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._ LATER AND LAST. THE FORT IS OURS. _A flag came out at early morn Bringing surrender. From their towers Floats out the banner late their scorn. In Dover, hut and house are full Of rebels dead or dying. The national flag is flying From the crammed court-house pinnacle. Great boat-loads of our wounded go To-day to Nashville. The sleet-winds blow; But all is right: the fight is won, The winter-fight for Donelson. Hurrah! The spell of old defeat is broke, The Habit of victory begun; Grant strikes the war’s first sounding stroke At Donelson. For lists of killed and wounded, see The morrow’s dispatch: to-day ’tis victory.  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 LATER AND LAST THE FORT IS OURS A FLAG CAME OUT AT EARLY MORN BRINGING SURRENDER FROM THEIR TOWERS FLOATS ON THE BANNER LATE THEIR SCORN IN DOVER HUT AND HOUSE ARE FULL OF REBELS DEAD OR DYING THE NATIONAL FLAG IS FLYING FROM THE CRAMMED COURT HOUSE PINNACLE GREAT BOAT LOADS OF OUR WOUNDED GO TO DAY TO NASHVILLE THE SLEET WINDS BLOW BUT ALL IS RIGHT THE FIGHT IS WON THE WINTER FIGHT FOR DONAL SON HURRAH THE SPELL OF OLD DEFEAT IS BROKE THE HABIT OF VICTORY BEGUN GRANT STRIKES THE WAR'S FIRST SOUNDING STROKE AT DONAL SON FOR LISTS OF KILLED AND WOUNDED SEE THE MORROW'S DISPATCH TO DAY TIS VICTORY
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