INK, BLOOD, AND TEARS.
(THE TAKING OF FORT SUMTER.)
A forty hours bombardment! Great guns throwing
Their iron hail; shells their mad mines exploding:
Furnaces lighted: shot at red heat glowing:
Shore-batt’ries an fort armament, firing, loading –
War’s visible hell let loose for forty hours,
And all her devils free to use their powers –
And yet not one man hit, her flag when Sumter
* * * * *******
And thus they sang – “I was not by chance,
Still less by fraud or fear,
Nor cost the world a tear.
‘Twas not that Northern hearts were weak,
Or Southern courage cold,
That shell and shot fell harming not
A man on shore or hold.
It was that all the ghosts who lived
To love the realm they made,
Came fleeting so athwart the fire,
That shot and shell were staid.
With those who rose at Boston
Whose grave eyes saw the Union’s
To their first charter set.
And many a name, their country’s fame
Hath sealed brave, wise, and true.
An awful host – above the coast,
About the fort, they hung;
Sad faces pale, too proud to wail,
But with sore anguish wrung.
Hovered the battle o’er,
Hind’ring the shot, that freight of death
Between those brothers bore.
And thus it happened, by God’s
And those good spirits band,
That battery-guarded strand,
Thanks unto Heaven
on bended knee,
Not scoff from mocking scorn,
Befits us, that to bloodless end
A strife like this is borne.”