Sunburnt men with beards like frieze, Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these, "Help us, brothers, ere we die, Save us, Sanitary!" Such the work. The phantom flies, Wrapped in battle clouds that rise; But the brave-whose dying eyes, Veiled and visionary, See the jasper gates swung wide, See the parted throng outside · Hears the voice to those who ride · "Pass in, Sanitary!" THE REVEILLE. HARK! I hear the tramp of thousands, And of arméd men the hum; Lo! a nation's hosts have gathered Round the quick alarming drum, — Saying, "Come, Freemen, come! Ere your heritage be wasted," said the quick alarming drum. "Let me of my heart take counsel: War is not of Life the sum ; Who shall stay and reap the harvest When the autumn days shall come?" But the drum Echoed, "Come! Death shall reap the braver harvest," said the solemn-sounding drum. "But when won the coming battle, What of profit springs therefrom? What if conquest, subjugation, Even greater ills become?" But the drum Answered, "Come! You must do the sum to prove it," said the Yan kee-answering drum. "What if, 'mid the cannons' thunder, Whistling shot and bursting bomb, When my brothers fall around me, Should my heart grow cold and numb?" |