Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 13.djvu/502

 496 On Picket Duty. [April, " Ours are the Irave ! " " Be ours the free 1 " " Be ours the slave, the masters we 1 " " On us their blood no more shall be ! " As when some magic word is spoken, By which a wizard spell is broken, There was a silence at that token.

The wild birds dared once more to sing, I heard the pine-bough's whispering, And trickling of a silver spring. Then, crashing forth with smoke and din, Once more the rattling sounds begin, Our iron lips roll forth, " We win ! " And dull and wavering in the gale That rushed in gusts across the vale Came back the faint reply, " We fail ! " And then a word, both stern and sad, From throat of huge Columbiad, " Blind fools and traitors ! ye are mad ! " Again the Rebel answer came, Muffled and slow, as if in shame, " All, all is lost ! " in smoke and flame. bold and strong and stern as Fate The Union guns sound forth, " We wait ! " Faint comes the distant cry, " Too late ! " " Return ! return ! " our cannon said ; And, as the smoke rolled overhead, " We dare not ! " was the answer dread. Then came a sound, both loud and clear, A godlike word of hope and cheer, " Forgiveness ! " echoed far and near ; As when beside some death-bed still We watch, and wait God's solemn will, A blue-bird warbles his soft trill. I clenched my teeth at that blest word, And, angry, muttered, " Not so, Lord ! The only answer is the sword ! " I thought of Sliiloh's tainted air, Of Richmond's prisons, foul and bare, And murdered heroes, young and fair,