 | Poems of the war |  |
147
THE FREE FLAG.
January 1, 1863.
O holy ensign! symbol fair
And unpolluted, save by those
Whose crimes have made themselves thy foes,
Kiss with true love the taintless air!
Lay all thy starry clusters bare
Beneath the heavenly stars; secure
That, as their own, thy light is pure!
And unpolluted, save by those
Whose crimes have made themselves thy foes,
Kiss with true love the taintless air!
Lay all thy starry clusters bare
Beneath the heavenly stars; secure
That, as their own, thy light is pure!
No more at thee the world shall sneer;
No more beneath thy shade shall flash
The terrors of the tyrant's lash;
Nor a whole race be bowed with fear,
As widens out thy grand career;
Nor shalt thou shield from righteous scorn
The guilt thy virtue has forsworn!
No more beneath thy shade shall flash
The terrors of the tyrant's lash;
Nor a whole race be bowed with fear,
As widens out thy grand career;
148
The guilt thy virtue has forsworn!
Where'er thy marshalled lines advance
The shattered chain shall fall behind;
And in sad eyes, half blank, half blind,
The light of liberty shall dance;
And the imbruted countenance
Shall warm with knowledge in the rays
That break on thy regenerate days!
The shattered chain shall fall behind;
And in sad eyes, half blank, half blind,
The light of liberty shall dance;
And the imbruted countenance
Shall warm with knowledge in the rays
That break on thy regenerate days!
Now thou hast purpose, strong and high,
Who doubts that right's assured success,
If not from man, from God, shall bless
Thy suffering fidelity
With more than mortal victory,—
With peace whose heart no more shall quake
Whene'er a loosened chain may shake?
Who doubts that right's assured success,
If not from man, from God, shall bless
Thy suffering fidelity
With more than mortal victory,—
With peace whose heart no more shall quake
Whene'er a loosened chain may shake?
149
Fly on, fly on! All hail to thee,
Flag whose fair folds thy children's blood
Has washed as in a running flood!
And may thy war-cry's burden be,
Alike to all, “Be free, be free!”
Perish the wretch who 'd see thee wave
Again above the shrinking slave!
Flag whose fair folds thy children's blood
Has washed as in a running flood!
And may thy war-cry's burden be,
Alike to all, “Be free, be free!”
Perish the wretch who 'd see thee wave
Again above the shrinking slave!
| Poems of the war | |