Poem by Richard Henry Stoddard

Twilight on Sumter

  Still and dark along the sea
      Sumter lay;
  A light was overhead,
  As from burning cities shed,
  And the clouds were battle-red,
      Far away.
  Not a solitary gun
  Left to tell the fort had won,
      Or lost the day!
  Nothing but the tattered rag
  Of the drooping Rebel flag,
And the sea-birds screaming round it in their play.

  How it woke one April morn,
      Fame shall tell;
  As from Moultrie, close at hand,
  And the batteries on the land,
  Round its faint but fearless band
      Shot and shell
  Raining hid the doubtful light;
  But they fought the hopeless fight
          Long and well,
  (Theirs the glory, ours the shame!)
  Till the walls were wrapt in flame,
Then their flag was proudly struck, and Sumter fell.

  Now—oh, look at Sumter now,
      In the gloom!
  Mark its scarred and shattered walls,
  (Hark! the ruined rampart falls!)
  There's a justice that appals
      In its doom;
  For this blasted spot of earth
  Where Rebellion had its birth
      Is its tomb!
  And when Sumter sinks at last
  From the heavens, that shrink aghast,
Hell shall rise in grim derision and make room!

1. The Witch’s Whelp
2. The Sledge at the Gate
3. Uncertain Sounds
4. The Flight of the Arrow
5. Lincoln's Birthday

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