Returned a dull, premonitory sound,
Which seemed to echo and accentuate
The burden of my heart, 'Too late! Too late!'
The fences, near the turnpike, as we passed,
Were by my orders disappearing fast;
The rails were piled in heaps and soon became
A prey to war's red ally,—vandal flame.
Houses, familiar to my childish sight,
Glowed strangely with an unaccustomed light,
While from adjacent barns and hay-ricks broke