 | Poems |  |
138
THE BANNER.
We blazon on our banner wide,
Whose silken scarlet fold
In streams of noble blood is dyed,
A mystic crown of gold.
Whose silken scarlet fold
In streams of noble blood is dyed,
A mystic crown of gold.
Which needs, in peacefullest repose,
Regilding every day:
And half our daily service goes
The charge thereof to pay.
Regilding every day:
And half our daily service goes
The charge thereof to pay.
And when the sacred symbol strives
Amid the storm of war,
We take and give ten thousand lives
For what is dearer far.
Amid the storm of war,
We take and give ten thousand lives
For what is dearer far.
139
That it again may float at ease
On haughty palace-height,
Unfurling to the summer breeze
And glittering in the light.
On haughty palace-height,
Unfurling to the summer breeze
And glittering in the light.
Yet preach not that its cost is great,
And that its worth is small:
Till ancient honour 's out of date
Our Banner shall not fall!
And that its worth is small:
Till ancient honour 's out of date
Our Banner shall not fall!
The earth is full of symbol powers
In all that 's great and fair;
And if thou like not this of ours—
Go, range thyself elsewhere.
In all that 's great and fair;
And if thou like not this of ours—
Go, range thyself elsewhere.
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