SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE. ( Washington City, 1865. ) - Spirit whose work is done--spirit of dreadful hours! - Ere departing fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; - Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering - - - - - - - - - - - pressing), - Spirit of many a solemn day and many a savage scene--electric spirit, #NAME? - - - - - - - - - - - phantom flitted, #NAME? - - - - - - - - - - - drum, - Now as the sound of the drum, hollow and harsh to the last, - - - - - - - - - - - reverberates round me, - As your ranks, your immortal ranks, return, return from the battles, - As the muskets of the young men yet lean over their shoulders, - As I look on the bayonets bristling over their shoulders, #NAME? - - - - - - - - - - - distance, approach and pass on, returning homeward, - Moving with steady motion, swaying to and fro to the right and left, - Evenly lightly rising and falling while the steps keep time; #NAME? - - - - - - - - - - - next day, - Touch my mouth ere you depart, press my lips close, #NAME? - - - - - - - - - - - currents convulsive, - Let them scorch and blister out of my chants when you are gone, #NAME?

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