Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/44

36 The sky, late clear, is now bereft

Of sun. Last night the ground froze hard—

Rings to the enemy as they run

Within their works. A ramrod bites

The lip it meets. The cold incites

To swinging of arms with brisk rebound.

Smart blows 'gainst lusty chests resound.

Along the outer line we ward

A crackle of skirmishing goes on.

Our lads creep round on hand and knee,

They fight from behind each trunk and stone;

And sometimes, flying for refuge, one

Finds 'tis an enemy shares the tree.

Some scores are maimed by boughs shot off

In the glades by the Fort's big gun.

We mourn the loss of colonel Morrison,

Killed while cheering his regiment on.

Their far sharpshooters try our stuff;

And ours return them puff for puff:

'Tis diamond-cutting-diamond work.

Woe on the rebel cannoneer

Who shows his head. Our fellows lurk

Like Indians that waylay the deer

By the wild salt-spring.—The sky is dun,

Fordooming the fall of Donelson.