Who should have amounted to something but hadn’t so far Though he worked hard and was honest. A middle-aged clerk, A stumpy, mute man in a faded army overcoat, Who wrote the War Department after Fort Sumter, Offering them such service as he could give And saying he thought that he was fit to command As much as a regiment, but getting no answer.

So many letters come to a War Department, One can hardly bother the clerks to answer them all⁠— Then a Volunteer colonel, drilling recruits with a stick, A red bandana instead of an officer’s sash; A brigadier-general, one of thirty-seven, Snubbed by Halleck and slighted by fussy Frémont; And then the frozen February gale Over Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, The gunboats on the cold river⁠—the brief siege⁠— “Unconditional surrender”⁠—and the newspapers.