Till only impotence remained!



XXIII.

There came at length an eve of gloom--
Dread Gettysburg's eventful eve--
When all the gathering clouds of doom
Hung low, the breathless air to cleave
With scream of shell and cannon-boom!

Man knew too well; and woman felt,
That when the next-wild morn should rise,
A blow of battle would, be dealt
Before whose fire ten thousand eyes--
As in a furnace flame--would melt.

And on this eve--her flock asleep--
Knelt Mildred at her lonely bed.
She could not pray, she did not weep,
But only moaned, and moaning, said:
"Oh God! he sows what I must reap!

"He will not live: he must not die!
But oh, my poor, prophetic heart!
It warns me that there lingers nigh
The hour when love and I must part!"
And then she startled with a cry,