No blankets, overcoats, or tents...

No blankets, overcoats, or tents.

Coats thrown aside on the warm march here —

We looked not then for changeful cheer;

Tents, coats, and blankets too much care.

No fires; a fire a mark presents;

Near by, the trees show bullet-dents.

Rations were eaten cold and raw.

The men well soaked, come snow; and more —

A midnight sally. Small sleeping done —

But such is war;

No matter, we'll have Fort Donelson.

“Ugh! ugh!

‘ Twill drag along — drag along”

Growled a cross patriot in the throng,

His battered umbrella like an ambulance-cover

Riddled with bullet-holes, spattered all over.

“Hurrah for Grant!” cried a stripling shrill;

Three urchins joined him with a will,

And some of taller stature cheered.

Meantime a Copperhead passed; he sneered.

“Win or lose,” he pausing said,

“Caps fly the same; all boys, mere boys;

Any thing to make a noise.

Like to see the list of the dead;

These‘ craven Southerners’ hold out;

Ay, ay, they'll give you many a bout”

“We'll beat in the end, sir”

Firmly said one in staid rebuke,

A solid merchant, square and stout.

“And do you think it? that way tend, sir”

Asked the lean Cooperhead, with a look

Of splenetic pity. “Yes, I do”

His yellow death's head the croaker shook:

“The country's ruined, that I know”

A shower of broken ice and snow,

In lieu of words, confuted him;

They saw him hustled round the corner go,

And each by-stander said — Well suited him.

Next day another crowd was seen

In the dark weather's sleety spleen.

Bald-headed to the storm came out

A man, who,‘ mid a joyous shout,

Silently posted this brief sheet: