"ALL QUIET ON POTOMAC."

THE PRESIDENT'S VISIT TO THE ARMY,

APRIL 5TH, '63

ALL is quiet on Potomac,

Save a stirring deep as hell,
Like the thought that stirr'd in Satan
Ere the hour the angels fell-
Hour that sorrow's pages tell.

Kisses thus the broad Atlantic,

On the sands that bound her shore,
Hath forgotton, when in frantic

Waves she leap'd with thunder's roar,
Navies from their moorings tore.

Sleeps the wind upon the billow,
Gently rippling in the sun,
Mindless when it howl'd the pillow,
Gory beds by battle won,

When the dreadful fight was done.

Beauteous are the tents by moonlight,
Gaily float the streamers there;
Glimpses of the bayonet bright,

Marching the pacing sentry's care
Where the war-fiend makes his lair.

But those tents shall know commotion,
And that moon shall light a scene
Wilder than the wrecks of ocean
Where the wintry howl hath been.
Changed the smiling landscape scene!

RALPH HOYT.

THE ATTACK.

ATTACK ON FRANKLIN, KY.,

APRIL 10TH, '63.

Nor long this bloody conflict was maintained— The vanquished foe fell back,

And the bugle's clarion notes proclaimed

The evening's bivouac;

While the wings of night their shadows pressed Upon the gory field,

And war-worn soldiers, in blankets wrapped,
Line phantoms were revealed.

Up from the river, the dark flowing river,
The misty vapors rise.

And an angel's bright bark is floating there,
To bear me to the skies:

The sail is full-from out of the pearly car
Glimmers a silvery oar,

To guide us along, thro' the weltering gloom,
To a bright and golden shore.

But he sits not alone in his mystic car:
Another as pure and white,

Is waiting and beckoning impatient to me
To join his heavenly flight;

While earthward bending from the upper sky,
With golden wings outspread,

I see full many an angel form
From among the battle dead,

WM. H. CLARK,

OH, SUMTER! HOW FALLEN!

SECOND ATTACK OF FORT SUMTER, ON THE SECOND ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIRST GUN,

APRIL 11TH, '63.

OH, Sumter! how fallen !-thy glory how faded!-
When in the dark past we thy story review;
When first the base hand of wanton rebellion
Struck down the bright folds of the Red White and Blue

How throb'd then the heart of the awe-stricken nation
As each cannon's voice thunder'd out thro' the land
The summons for freemen to haste to the rescue
Of Liberty bleeding, 'neath Treason's vile hand!

While in the bright ether, enshrin'd in his glory,
The spirit of Wasington swept o'er the main,
With fraternal hand o'er thee outstretched, imploring,
And regal brow bent-but, alas! all in vain!

The fierce blow was dealt then that shatter'd the nation,
The monster Rebellion then rear'd its proud head,
And in deep thunder tones-from iron lips spoken-
Declaimed that the Genius of Freedom was dead!

Then—then, oh, proud Sumpter, thy glory was faded— Thine iron tongue utter'd each morn a base lie, When as the sun rose, the false flag flut'ring o'er thee, Declared that the Union dissevered must die!

Since then, low'ring war-clouds hath shadow'd the altar Which Freedom and Truth had upreared in the West, Like the incense of old from the Sacrifice raising, Hath hid thee in gloom and obscured thy proud crest.

The Nation upon thee hath gazed in deep sorrow,
And view'd thee-ah! not as the sepulchre dark
Where slumbered the ashes of Union dissevered,
But as they of old viewed the Temple and Ark.

So gazed the whole nation upon thy embrasures,
So gazed they upon thee thro' war's deep'ning haze,
Assur'd 'mid the gloom, that the Genius of Freedom
From out thy dark ruins resurrected would raise!

They gazed not in vain-nor hoped they mistaken-
The fiat went forth from the mouth of the Lord;
The buckler of Faith girt the loins of the nation,
As they marched to redeem thee, with fire and sword.

Assembled around thee-a host strong and mighty-
With spirits of wrath panting for the affray,
With iron-mail'd hand on thy firm gates they thund'r'd
"Till'neath their fierce blows thy stout walls gave way.

"Ope'-open to Justice," the iron throats thunder'd, "Ope'-open to Truth, now!" the musketry roar'd, "Too long hath the base hand of Treason retain'd thee. Thou Symbol of Freedom!" said the voice of the Lord.

The Lord's voice spoke from the mouth of the cannon,
And lo! thy walls crumbled when thus he had said,
Until soon the base flag of wanton Rebellion
Amid the dark ruins of Sumter was laid.

When out of its portals, amid a bright halo,
Which lumin'd the sky East, West, South and North,
The Genius of Freedom then spread its fair pinions,
And 'mid great rejoicing, to light issued forth--

To carry glad tidings to thousands now waiting
To hear that the reign of Treason is o'er,

When with prayer and thanksgiving the nation united
Shall hail the old Union as it was of yore.

Oh, Sumter, tho' fallen, with thy glory faded-
Tho' shatter'd thy gates, and in ruins thy wall,
'Twere better to be thus the tombstone of Treason
Than a monument dam'd of Liberty's fall!

J. HENRY HAYWARD.

END OF THE FIRST TWO YEARS.