The American Flag
by Joseph Rodman Drake (1795�1820) |
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When Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her
standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its
gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And
striped its pure celestial white
With streakings of the
morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She
called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty
hand
The symbol of her chosen land.
Majestic
monarch of the cloud,
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumpings loud
And see the lightning
lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,
Child of the sun!
to thee 't is given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle
stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like
rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!
Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of
hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet
tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the
life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening
bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where
thy sky-born glories burn,
And, as his springing steps
advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And
when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the
battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall
Like
shoots of flame on midnight's pall,
Then shall thy meteor
glances glow,
And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger
of death.
Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy
stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering
on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And
frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's
reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall
look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy
splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home!
By angel hands to
valor given;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
And
all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that
standard sheet!
Where breathes the foe but falls before
us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And
Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? |
By Joseph Rodman Drake (1795�1820)
Listed December 5, 2012 |
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