“Our loss!” Whose loss? Let demagogues say That the Cabinet, President, all are in wrong: What do the orphans and widows pray? What is the burden of their sad song?
’Tis their loss! but the tears in their weeping eyes Hide Cabinet, President, Generals,—all; And they only can see a cold form that lies On the hill-side slope, by that fatal wall.
They cannot discriminate men or means,— They only demand that this blundering cease. In their frenzied grief they would end such scenes, Though that end be—even with traitors—peace.
Is thy face from thy people turned, O God? Is thy arm for the nation no longer strong? We cry from our homes—the dead cry from the sod— How long, oh, our righteous God! how long?
TREASON’S LAST DEVICE.
By EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.
[Certain politicians proposed, as a means of ending the war, that a new confederacy or union should be formed, from which the New England States should be excluded because of their implacable hostility to slavery and their consequent obnoxiousness to the South. There were many spirited replies to this proposal, the best of which is this poem.—Editor.]