  By BRET HARTE. H Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, And of armÉd men the hum; Lo! a nation’s hosts have gathered Round the quick-alarming drum— Saying: “Come, Freemen, come! Ere your heritage be wasted,” said the quick-alarming drum.“Let me of my heart take counsel: War is not of life the sum; Who shall stay and reap the harvest When the autumn days shall come?” But the drum Echoed: “Come! Death shall reap the braver harvest,” said the solemn-sounding drum. “But when won the coming battle, What of profit springs therefrom? What if conquest, subjugation, Even greater ills become?” But the drum Answered: “Come! You must do the sum to prove it,” said the Yankee-answering drum. “What if, ’mid the cannon’s thunder, Whistling shot and bursting bomb, When my brothers fall around me, Should my heart grow cold and numb?” But the drum Answered: “Come! Better there in death united than in life a recreant—Come!” Thus they answered—hoping, fearing, Some in faith and doubting some, Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming, Said: “My chosen people, come!” Then the drum, Lo! was dumb; For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, answered: “Lord, we come!” Banner
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