But the name is there forever, and it shall be hidden never,
While the awful brand of murder points the Avenger to its shore;
While the blood of peaceful brothers God's dread vengeance doth implore,
Thou art doomed, O Baltimore!
"There!" says the serious New Haven chap, as he finished reading, stirring something softly with a spoon, "what do you suppose Poe would think, if he were alive now and could read that?"
"I think," says I, striving to appear calm, "that he would be 'Raven' mad about it."
"Oh—ah—yes," says the serious chap, vaguely, "what will you take?"
Doubtless I shall become hardened to the horrors of war in time, my boy; but at present these things unhinge me.
Yours, unforgivingly,
Orpheus C. Kerr.