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: