Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/59

 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.

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.