Meanwhile, Lee rides through the heart of the Cumberland. A great hot sunset colors the marching men, Colors the horse and the sword and the bearded face But cannot change that face from its strong repose. And⁠—miles away⁠—Joe Hooker, by telegraph Calls for the garrison left at Harper’s Ferry To join him. Elbow-rubbing Halleck refuses. Hooker resigns command⁠—and fades from the East To travel West, fight keenly at Lookout Mountain, Follow Sherman’s march as far as Atlanta, Be ranked by Howard, and tartly resign once more Before the end and the fame and the Grand Review, To die a slow death, in bed, with his fire gone out, A campfire quenched and forgotten. He deserved A better and brusquer end that marched with his nickname, This disappointed, hot-tempered, most human man Who had such faith in himself except for once, And the once, being Chancellorsville, wiped out the rest. He was often touchy and life was touchy with him, But the last revenge was a trifle out of proportion.