 | Songs of two centuries |  |
99
SONG—LANGUAGE OF THE FLAG.
O stars of our flag one by one you arose,
'Till the sky on our banner was blazing with splendor!
Each ray from their depths is a night to our foes,
And a sunburst of joy to the gallant defender.
Not only their worth cheers the land of your birth,
But flings its clear light to the ends of the earth!
And the nation shall never from victory rest,
'Till the world is as free as the Land of the West!
'Till the sky on our banner was blazing with splendor!
Each ray from their depths is a night to our foes,
And a sunburst of joy to the gallant defender.
Not only their worth cheers the land of your birth,
But flings its clear light to the ends of the earth!
And the nation shall never from victory rest,
'Till the world is as free as the Land of the West!
O stripes of the flag!—you are emblems of woe
That fell on the hearts of the founders we cherish;
'Gainst the frowns of the storm and the guns of the foe
They fought that the land of their love should not perish.
The stripes that gleam red are from blood that was shed,
And the white ones between are from shrouds of our dead;
And farther and farther this emblem shall wave,
'Till the world has forgot that there e'er was a slave!
That fell on the hearts of the founders we cherish;
'Gainst the frowns of the storm and the guns of the foe
They fought that the land of their love should not perish.
The stripes that gleam red are from blood that was shed,
And the white ones between are from shrouds of our dead;
And farther and farther this emblem shall wave,
'Till the world has forgot that there e'er was a slave!
O staff of our flag!—you are sturdy and strong,
Like the people whose hands and whose hearts must uphold you!
You cling to the colors, through tempests of wrong,
Or when 'mid the zephyrs of peace they enfold you.
On many a field, you have scorned e'er to yield,
For the hearts of the brave were your sword and your shield;
And you promise for ages to stay in your might,
'Till the world gathers round you—firm standard of right!
Like the people whose hands and whose hearts must uphold you!
You cling to the colors, through tempests of wrong,
Or when 'mid the zephyrs of peace they enfold you.
On many a field, you have scorned e'er to yield,
For the hearts of the brave were your sword and your shield;
And you promise for ages to stay in your might,
'Till the world gathers round you—firm standard of right!
| Songs of two centuries | |