Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/252

Rh He raised his cherub head, with such a cry Of horror, as I deemed no infant heart Could utter or conceive. And they who oft Stood with the unblenching brave, when the thick air Steamed like a sulphur-furnace, and the earth Reeked with fresh blood, and thousand parting souls Sent forth the fearful groan, did say that naught 'Mid all the appalling ministry of war Had ever moved them like that wailing babe.