Mid the smoke of the contest, the cannon's deep roar, How oft it has gathered renown,

While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore, Where the cross and the lion went down;

And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour,

Yet the hearts that were striking below

Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their

power,

And they stopped not to number their foe.

From where our green mountain tops blend with the sky

And the giant Saint Lawrence is rolled,

To the waves where the balmy Hesperides lie,
Like the dream of some prophet of old,

They conquered—and dying, bequeathed to our

care

Not this boundless dominion alone,

But that banner whose loveliness hallows the air, And their motto of "Many in One."

We are many in one while there glitters a star
In the blue of the heavens above;

And tyrants shall quail, mid their dungeons afar,
When they gaze on that motto of love.

It shall gleam o'er the sea mid the bolts of the

storm

Over tempest, and battle, and wreck;

'And flame where our guns with their thunder grow

warm,

'Neath the blood on the slippery deck.

The oppressed of the earth to that standard shall fly
Wherever its folds shall be spread;

And the exile shall feel 'tis his own native sky,
Where its stars shall float over his head:

And those stars shall increase till the fulness of time
Its millions of cycles has run;

Till the world shall have welcomed its mission sub

lime,

And the nations of earth shall be one.

Though the old Alleghany may tower to heaven
And the Father of Waters divide,

The links of our destiny cannot be riven

While the truth of those words shall abide. Then oh, let them glow on each helmet and brand Though our blood like our rivers shall run; Divide as we may in our own native land, To the rest of the world we are one.

Then up with the flag! Let it stream in the air Though our fathers are cold in their graves; They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dare,

And their sons were not born to be slaves.

Up, up with that banner! Where'er it may call,

Our millions shall rally around;

And a nation of freemen that moment shall fall When its stars shall be trailed on the ground.

OLD FLAG

HUBBARD PARKER

WHAT shall I say to you, Old Flag?
You are so grand in every fold,
So linked with mighty deeds of old,
So steeped in blood where heroes fell,
So torn and pierced by shot and shell,
So calm, so still, so firm, so true,
My throat swells at the sight of you,

Old Flag.

What of the men who lifted you, Old Flag,
Upon the top of Bunker's Hill;

Who crushed the Briton's cruel will,

'Mid shock and roar and crash and scream; Who crossed the Delaware's frozen stream, Who starved, who fought, who bled, who died, That you might float in glorious pride,

Old Flag?

What of the women brave and true, Old Flag, Who, while the cannon thundered wild,

Sent forth a husband, lover, child;
Who labored in the field by day;

Who, all the night long, knelt to pray,
And thought that God great mercy gave,
If only freely you might wave,

Old Flag?

What is your mission now, Old Flag?
What, but to set all people free,
To rid the world of misery,

To guard the right, avenge the wrong,
And gather in one joyful throng
Beneath your folds in close embrace
All burdened ones of every race,

Old Flag?

Right nobly do you lead the way, Old Flag, Your stars shine out for liberty,

Your white stripes stand for purity,

Your crimson claims that courage high

For Honor's sake to fight and die.
Lead on against the alien shore!
We'll follow you e'en to Death's door,

Old Flag!

THE FLAG GOES BY1

HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT

Henry Holcomb Bennett (1863-) is well known as a painter of animals and birds, as an ornithologist, and as a writer of stories and occasional poems dealing with frontier and army life.

HATS off!

Along the street there comes

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,

A flash of color beneath the sky:

Hats off!

The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,

Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.

Hats off!

The colors before us fly;

But more than the flag is passing by.

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State:
Weary marches and sinking ships;

Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace;

March of a strong land's swift increase;

1 Originally published by the Youth's Companion. Copyright, 1907, by

A. S. Barnes & Company. Used by permission.