Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud,
Looms o'er the solemn deep.
We behold the Queen City of the Sea standing majestically on the
sands, the storm-clouds lowering darkly over her, the distant thunders
of war threatening her, and the pale lightnings of the coming tempest
flashing nearer,
And down the dunes a thousand guns lie couched,
Unseen, beside the flood--
Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched
That wait and watch for blood.
We see her in those dark days before the plunge into the darkness has
been taken, as
Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade,
Walk grave and thoughtful men,
Whose hands may one day wield the patriot's blade
As lightly as the pen.