When you hear the shouts and cheering

For the boys who whipped the Don!

There'll be Yankees, there'll be Johnnies,
There'll be North and South no more,

When the boys come marching homeward
With Old Glory borne before.

From Atlantic to Pacific,

From the Pine Tree to Lone Star.
They'll be one beneath Old Glory
After coming from the war.

WHEN THE GREAT GRAY SHIPS COME IN1

GUY WETMORE CARRYL

Guy Wetmore Carryl (1873-1904), though but a young man at the time of his death, was ranked among the most promising of American writers. Much of his work was done in Paris, and in his magazine articles and stories he displayed a sympathetic understanding of French life in all its varied phases rarely attained by a foreigner. This greatly endeared him to the hearts of the French people. The present poem celebrates the day, August 20, 1898, when the American squadron sailed into New York, just eight days after the signing of a protocol and the cessation of hostilities between the United States and Spain.

TO EASTWARD ringing, to westward ringing,
O'er mapless miles of sea,

1 From The Garden of Years. G. P. Putnam's Sons. Used by per. mission.

On winds and tides the gospel rides
That the furthermost isles are free;
'And the furthermost isles make answer,
Harbor, and height, and hill,

Breaker and beach cry, each to each,
""Tis the Mother who calls! Be still!”
Mother! new-found, beloved,

And strong to hold from harm, Stretching to these across the seas

The shield of her sovereign arm,
Who summoned the guns of her sailor sons,
Who bade her navies roam,

Who calls again to the leagues of main,
And who calls them this time home!

And the great gray ships are silent,
And the weary watchers rest;

The black cloud dies in the August skies,
And deep in the golden west
Invisible hands are limning

A glory of crimson bars,

And far above is the wonder of
A myriad of wakened stars!
Peace! As the tidings silence
The strenuous cannonade,
Peace at last! is the bugle blast

The length of the long blockade;

And eyes of vigil weary

'Are lit with the glad release,

From ship to ship and from lip to lip,
It is "Peace! Thank God for peace!"

Ah, in the sweet hereafter

Columbia still shall show

The sons of those who swept the seas
How she bade them rise and go-
How, when the stirring summons
Smote on her children's ear,

South and North at the call stood forth
And the whole land answered, "Here!"
For the soul of the soldier's story

And the heart of the sailor's song
Are all of those who meet their foes
As right should meet with wrong,
Who fight their guns till the foeman runs,
And then, on the decks they trod,
Brave faces raise, and give the praise
To the grace of their country's God!

Yes, it is good to battle,

And good to be strong and free,
To carry the hearts of a people
To the uttermost ends of sea,

To see the day steal up the bay
Where the enemy lies in wait,
To run your ship to the harbor's lip
And sink her across the strait

1 On June 3, 1898, Richmond P. Hobson, of the American navy, attempted to blockade the Spanish fleet by sinking a collier, the Merrimac, across the harbor mouth at Santiago de Cuba.

But better the golden evening

When the ship round heads for home,
And the long gray miles slip swiftly past
In a swirl of seething foam,

And the people wait at the haven's gate
To greet the men who win!

Thank God for peace! Thank God for peace,
When the great gray ships come in!

THE FLAG OF OUR COUNTRY1

FRANK LEBBY STANTON

SHE'S up there-Old Glory-she's waving o'er

head;

She dazzles the nations with ripples of red, And she'll wave for us living, or droop o'er us dead

She's the flag of our country forever!

She's up there-Old Glory-no tyrant-dealt scars, Nor blur on her brightness-no stain on her

stars;

The brave blood of heroes hath crimsoned her

bars

She's the flag of our country forever!

1 From Comes One With a Song. Copyright, 1898. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

THE AMERICAN FLAG

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE

Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) began writing poetry when he was but fourteen years of age. His brief life was a continual struggle with poverty and ill health. The year before his death he wrote this oft-quoted poem. The line "The guard and glory of the world" originally ended the poem; but Drake's dearly loved friend Fitz-Greene Halleck suggested the final four lines, and the author gladly added them.

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,