It was a little cooler, three miles out, Where the tall trees shaded the Soldiers’ Home. The lank man, Abraham Lincoln, found it so, Glad for it, doubtless, though his cavernous eyes Had stared all day into a distant fog Trying to pierce it. “General McClellan Is now in touch with Lee in front of Sharpsburg And will attack as soon as the fog clears.”

It’s cleared by now. They must be fighting now.