 | Poems : medley and Palestina |  |
The Battle Flag.
I beckon onward charging men,
I head the bleeding rally,
I flaunt along the rattling glen,
Along the booming valley.
I head the bleeding rally,
I flaunt along the rattling glen,
Along the booming valley.
I waver through the bloody sedge
That rims the black morasses;
I climb the mountain's smoky ledge
And rive the columned masses.
That rims the black morasses;
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And rive the columned masses.
I span the river's icy flight,
I flout the squadroned horses,
I scale the rampart's steely height
And throb above the corses.
I flout the squadroned horses,
I scale the rampart's steely height
And throb above the corses.
A dozen men have borne my staff,
And, clutching it, have perished;
But still along the war I laugh,
And still my rags are cherished.
And, clutching it, have perished;
But still along the war I laugh,
And still my rags are cherished.
I lead my children through the flame,
All marching in their places;
I cheer my darlings on to fame
And kiss their dying faces.
All marching in their places;
I cheer my darlings on to fame
And kiss their dying faces.
I muster scarce a hundred braves
Beneath my crimsoned glory.
O heroes, forward to your graves,
And plant my pike in story!
Beneath my crimsoned glory.
O heroes, forward to your graves,
And plant my pike in story!
| Poems : medley and Palestina | |