Ah, ever when with storm sublime
Dread Nature clears our murky air,
Thus in the crash of falling crime
Some lesser guilt must share.
Full red the furnace fires must glow
That melt the ore of mortal kind;
The mills of God are grinding slow,
But ah, how close they grind!
To-day the Dahlgren and the drum
Are dread Apostles of His Name;
His kingdom here can only come
By chrism of blood and flame.
Be strong: already slants the gold
Athwart these wild and stormy skies:
From out this blackened waste, behold
What happy homes shall rise!
But see thou well no traitor gloze,
No striking hands with Death and Shame,
Betray the sacred blood that flows
So freely for thy name.
And never fear a victor foe—
Thy children's hearts are strong and high;
Nor mourn too fondly; well they know
On deck or field to die.
Nor shalt thou want one willing breath,
Though, ever smiling round the brave,
The blue sea bear us on to death,
The green were one wide grave.
Henry Howard Brownell.
One more naval action remains to be recorded. The blockading fleet on the Carolina coast had been constantly threatened by the Confederate ram Albemarle. Finally, late in October, 1864, Lieutenant William B. Cushing undertook to destroy it. On the night of October 27, he entered Plymouth harbor in a small boat, with a crew of thirteen men, approached the ram, and despite a hail of bullets, exploded a torpedo under its bow, sinking it. Cushing and most of his men escaped by leaping into the water.