CAME the morning of that day | |
| When the God to whom we pray | |
| Gave the soul of Henry Clay | |
| To the land; | |
| How we loved him, living, dying! | 5 |
| But his birthday banners flying | |
| Saw us asking and replying | |
| Hand to hand. | |
| |
| For we knew that far away, | |
| Round the fort in Charleston Bay, | 10 |
| Hung the dark impending fray, | |
| Soon to fall; | |
| And that Sumter’s brave defender | |
| Had the summons to surrender | |
| Seventy loyal hearts and tender— | 15 |
| (Those were all!) | |
| |
| And we knew the April sun | |
| Lit the length of many a gun— | |
| Hosts of batteries to the one | |
| Island crag; | 20 |
| Guns and mortars grimly frowning, | |
| Johnson, Moultrie, Pinckney, crowning, | |
| And ten thousand men disowning | |
| The old flag. | |
| |
| Oh, the fury of the fight | 25 |
| Even then was at its height! | |
| Yet no breath, from noon till night, | |
| Reached us here; | |
| We had almost ceased to wonder, | |
| And the day had faded under, | 30 |
| When the echo of the thunder | |
| Filled each ear! | |
| |
| Then our hearts more fiercely beat, | |
| As we crowded on the street, | |
| Hot to gather and repeat | 35 |
| All the tale; | |
| All the doubtful chances turning, | |
| Till our souls with shame were burning, | |
| As if twice our bitter yearning | |
| Could avail! | 40 |
| |
| Who had fired the earliest gun? | |
| Was the fort by traitors won? | |
| Was there succor? What was done | |
| Who could know? | |
| And once more our thoughts would wander | 45 |
| To the gallant lone commander, | |
| On his battered ramparts grander | |
| Than the foe. | |
| |
| Not too long the brave shall wait; | |
| On their own heads be their fate, | 50 |
| Who against the hallowed State | |
| Dare begin; | |
| Flag defied and compact riven! | |
| In the record of high Heaven | |
| How shall Southern men be shriven | 55 |
| For the sin! | |
| |
