In the patriotic poems, chiefly war lyrics, notes louder, harsher, and even bitter in their tone as the cause seems lost, strike clear and full upon the ear, disclosing their author as one of the "fire eaters" of the South, loth to accept the verdict of the sword and submit to reconstruction. In this gathering, apart from their connection with the author, two or three of these poems no doubt will be interesting for their historical value alone. "The Storm," written April 15, 1861, expresses in borrowed form but with graphic power the terrible suspense that then prevailed:
THE STORM.
OLD DOMINION.
Watchman, tell us of the night,
For our hearts with grief are bowed;
Breaks no gleam of silver light
Through the dark and angry cloud?
WATCHMAN.
Blacker grows the midnight sky;
Lightnings leap and thunders roll;
Hist! the tempest draweth nigh,—
Christ, have mercy on our souls!
OLD DOMINION.
Search the northern sky with care,
Whence the tempest issued forth,
Are the clouds not breaking there?
Watchman, tell us of the North.
WATCHMAN.
I have searched the Northern skies,
Where the wicked storm-fiends dwell;
From their seething caldrons rise
Clouds as black as smoke from hell.