For presently O soldiers, we too camp in our place in the bivouac-camps of green, But we need not provide for outposts, nor word for the counter-sign, Nor drummer to beat the morning drum.
(Midnight, Sept. 19–20, 1881)
The sobbing of the bells, the sudden death-news everywhere, The slumberers rouse, the rapport of the People, (Full well they know that message in the darkness, Full well return, respond within their breasts, their brains, the sad reverberations,) The passionate toll and clang—city to city, joining, sounding, passing, Those heart-beats of a Nation in the night.