LATER.

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description

# LATER. ## Overview "LATER." is a segment of text, specifically a poem, from the collection "[Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.](arke:01KG8AJ6FNQ0XKWBY52P8DRPC9)". It was extracted from the file "[battle_pieces_and_aspects_of_the_war.txt](arke:01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8)" and is part of the larger "[Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW)" collection. This segment is dated to have been extracted on January 30, 2026. ## Context This poem segment is situated within "[Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.](arke:01KG8AJ6FNQ0XKWBY52P8DRPC9)", a collection of poems by Herman Melville that reflects on the American Civil War. The segment follows the poem titled "[FRIDAY’S GREAT EVENT!](arke:01KG8AJKCSFPGGGE7T8FNE7E1S)" and precedes the segment titled "STORY OF SATURDAY AFTERNOON.". ## Contents The text of "LATER." vividly describes the harsh conditions and intense fighting during the Battle of Donelson. It details the suffering of wounded soldiers, the biting cold, and the determination of the Union troops. The poem contrasts the grim realities of war with the soldiers' unwavering resolve to achieve victory. It also touches upon the humanity shown by the Confederate soldiers towards the wounded and reflects on the moral complexities of the conflict, likening the battle to a "perverted Bunker Hill." The narrative shifts to the aftermath, describing the public's anxious anticipation for news and the emotional toll the war takes on individuals. The segment concludes with the beginning of a new report, "MORE NEWS LAST NIGHT.", indicating a continuation of the unfolding events.

description_generated_at

2026-01-30T20:48:22.324Z

description_model

gemini-2.5-flash-lite

description_title

LATER.

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858

extracted_at

2026-01-30T20:47:35.910Z

extracted_by

structure-extraction-lambda

source_file

01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8

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747

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LATER. Great suffering through the night-- A stinging one. Our heedless boys Were nipped like blossoms. Some dozen Hapless wounded men were frozen. During day being struck down out of sight, And help-cries drowned in roaring noise, They were left just where the skirmish shifted-- Left in dense underbrush now-drifted. Some, seeking to crawl in crippled plight, So stiffened--perished. Yet in spite Of pangs for these, no heart is lost. Hungry, and clothing stiff with frost, Our men declare a nearing sun Shall see the fall of Donelson. And this they say, yet not disown The dark redoubts round Donelson, And ice-glazed corpses, each a stone-- A sacrifice to Donelson; They swear it, and swerve not, gazing on A flag, deemed black, flying from Donelson. Some of the wounded in the wood Were cared for by the foe last night, Though he could do them little needed good, Himself being all in shivering plight. The rebel is wrong, but human yet; He’s got a heart, and thrusts a bayonet. He gives us battle with wondrous will-- The blufff’s a perverted Bunker Hill._ The stillness stealing through the throng The silent thought and dismal fear revealed; They turned and went, Musing on right and wrong And mysteries dimly sealed-- Breasting the storm in daring discontent; The storm, whose black flag showed in heaven, As if to say no quarter there was given To wounded men in wood, Or true hearts yearning for the good-- All fatherless seemed the human soul. But next day brought a bitterer bowl-- On the bulletin-board this stood; _Saturday morning at 3 A.M. A stir within the Fort betrayed That the rebels were getting under arms; Some plot these early birds had laid. But a lancing sleet cut him who stared Into the storm. After some vague alarms, Which left our lads unscared, Out sallied the enemy at dim of dawn, With cavalry and artillery, and went In fury at our environment. Under cover of shot and shell Three columns of infantry rolled on, Vomited out of Donelson-- Rolled down the slopes like rivers of hell, Surged at our line, and swelled and poured Like breaking surf. But unsubmerged Our men stood up, except where roared The enemy through one gap. We urged Our all of manhood to the stress, But still showed shattered in our desperateness. Back set the tide, But soon afresh rolled in; And so it swayed from side to side-- Far batteries joining in the din, Though sharing in another fray-- Till all became an Indian fight, Intricate, dusky, stretching far away, Yet not without spontaneous plan However tangled showed the plight; Duels all over ’tween man and man, Duels on cliff-side, and down in ravine, Duels at long range, and bone to bone; Duels every where flitting and half unseen. Only by courage good as their own, And strength outlasting theirs, Did our boys at last drive the rebels off. Yet they went not back to their distant lairs In strong-hold, but loud in scoff Maintained themselves on conquered ground-- Uplands; built works, or stalked around. Our right wing bore this onset. Noon Brought calm to Donelson. The reader ceased; the storm beat hard; ’Twas day, but the office-gas was lit; Nature retained her sulking-fit, In her hand the shard. Flitting faces took the hue Of that washed bulletin-board in view, And seemed to bear the public grief As private, and uncertain of relief; Yea, many an earnest heart was won, As broodingly he plodded on, To find in himself some bitter thing, Some hardness in his lot as harrowing As Donelson. That night the board stood barren there, Oft eyes by wistful people passing, Who nothing saw but the rain-beads chasing Each other down the wafered square, As down some storm-beat grave-yard stone. But next day showed-- MORE NEWS LAST NIGHT.

title

LATER.