. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . THE TWELFTH OF APRIL. , EDMUND CI^ARENCE; ST^DMAN. [Peculiar interest attaches to this piece as the firstpoem written after the actual outbreak of the Civil Warand inspired by its events. The poem appeared in theevening edition of the New York World, on April i6,1861,—Editor.] 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!But his
. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . THE TWELFTH OF APRIL. , EDMUND CI^ARENCE; ST^DMAN. [Peculiar interest attaches to this piece as the firstpoem written after the actual outbreak of the Civil Warand inspired by its events. The poem appeared in theevening edition of the New York World, on April i6,1861,—Editor.] 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!But his birthday banners flying,Saw us asking and replying,Hand to hand. For we knew that far away,Round the fort at Charleston bay,Hung the dark impending to fall;170 Zbc ^vvelftb of 2lpril 171 And that Sumters brave defenderHad the summons to surrender :Seventy loyal hearts and tender—That was -s^.. And we knew the April sunLit the length of man}- a gun-Hosts of batteries to the oneIsland crag; 172 XLbc XLvoclttb of Bpril Guns and mortars grimly frowning,Johnson, Moultrie, Pinckney, ten thousand men disowningThe old flag. O the fury of the fight Bven then was at its height! Yet no breath from noon till night Reached us here ;We had almost ceased to the day had faded under,When—the echo of the thunder Filled each ear ! Then our hearts more fiercely beat,As we crov/ded on the street,Hot to gather and repeat All the tale ;All the doubtful chances turning,Till our souls with shame were burning,As if all our bitter yearning Could avail ! Who had fired the earliest gun ?Was the fort by traitors won ?Was there succor ? What was could know? tTbe ^welftb of Bpril 173 And once more our tiioughts would wanderTo the gallant, lone commander,On his battered ramparts granderThan the foe. Not too long the brave shall wait :On their own heads be their fate
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