14
A SHEAF GLEANED
Rolling, reverberating, and dying off!
It is the forts. It is that they have seen
In depths profound of spaces vast and dim,
The sinister cannon-waggons darkly grouped;
It is, that they the outlines have surprised
Of cannons ranged; it is that in some wood
From whence the owl has fled on hurried wings,
Beside a field, they faintly have descried
The black swarm of battalions on the march,
With bayonet gleams, like points of silver sharp
Commingled; it is that in thickets dense
They have found out the flash of traitorous eyes
How grand they are,
These great watch-dogs, that in the darkness bay!
