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Description
Donelson
(FEBRUARY, 1862) THE bitter cup Of that hard countermand Which gave the Envoys up, Still was wormwood in the mouth, And clouds involved the land, When, pelted by sleet in the icy street, About the bulletin-board a band Of eager, anxious people met, And every wakeful heart was set On latest news from West or South. "No seeing here;" cries one--"don't crowd"-- "You tall man, pray you, read aloud." IMPORTANT. We learn that General Grant, Marching from Henry overland, And joined by a force up the Cumberland sent (Some thirty thousand the command), On Wednesday a good position won-- Began the siege of Donelson. This stronghold crowns a river-bluff, A good broad mile of leveled top; Inland the ground rolls off Deep-gorged, and rocky, and broken up-- A wilderness of trees and brush. The spaded summit shows the roods Of fixed entrenchments in their hush; Breast-works and rifle-pits in woods Perplex the base.-- The welcome weather Is clear and mild; 'tis much like May. The ancient boughs that lace together Along the stream, and hang far forth, Strange with green mistletoe, betray A dreamy contrast to the North. Our troops are full of spirits--say The siege won't prove a creeping one. They purpose not the lingering stay Of old beleaguerers; not that way; But, full of vim from Western prairies won, They'll make, ere long, a dash at Donelson. Washed by the storm till the paper grew Every shade of a streaky blue, That bulletin stood. The next day brought A second. LATER FROM THE FORT. Grant's investment is complete-- A semicircular one. Both wings the Cumberland's margin meet, Then, backward curving, clasp the rebel seat. On Wednesday this good work was done; But of the doers some lie prone. Each wood, each hill, each glen was fought for; The bold enclosing line we wrought for Flamed with sharpshooters. Each cliff cost A limb or life. But back we forced Reserves and all; made good our hold; And so we rest. Events unfold. On Thursday added ground was won, A long bold steep: we near the Den. Later the foe came shouting down In sortie, which was quelled; and then We stormed them on their left. A chilly change in the afternoon; 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... |
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