 | A Dream |  |
13
THE EAGLE.
Honored bird of our proud nation,Soaring in thy far off sky!
Telling plainly, words by action,
Earthly missions should be high:
High is all that should be guarded
In our busy nation's strife.
Soaring bird, our nation's glory,
What a proud and lofty life—
Flying, poising, sailing, swooping—
All sublime is thine on high.
May you live, aye long—forever,
Just as proud, and never die!
May our nation, as thy soaring,
Ever be as proud as you,
Never stooping, always lofty,
With her brothers kind and true;
As the cause that crushed out slavery,
As the cause that made us one,
One in union, one in glory,
Great beneath God's shining sun.
Now I think of grand, old Abe,
And our fight on Cuban soil,
14
With his fever and his toil.
Land of ours! Great our Union,
More than kingdoms gone before;
More than Rome of long past ages,
With her turmoil and her roar.
Going, art thou, flying eagle?
Up, ah, upward, out of sight!
Higher, higher, thou art sailing;
I have lost thee in thy flight.
Fare thee well! as thou hast left me,
May thy form again I see;
Once again may I behold thee,
Soaring, poising just as free.
| A Dream | |