The waiting army lay encamped, before
The Rapidan's inhospitable shore.
The first few weeks, devoid of incident,
Were in the army's winter quarters spent,
Until the winter, on his snowy wing,
Retired before the genial breath of spring.
In speculation on the moves to come,
The tongue of prophecy remained not dumb,
But showered prognostications of defeat,
Succeeded by the usual retreat,