That flag of the brave and the free;
E'en though for its safety I perish,
My blood will its sacrifice be.
Spake a soldier: his heart o'erflowing
With admiration and love for its pride;
The flush of manhood brightly glowing,
While his idol he proudly eyed.
Oh, the glory of that waving parcel,
The sunlight of heaven's reflected array;
The zephyrs of ocean your folds kindly fondle,
Photos of aerial beauty your colors portray.
Yes, I glory in its chivalric beauty,
A chivalry that never will lag;
And, in submission to chivalric duty
Permit me, oh God! to carry our flag.
With war's dark clouds o'ershadowed,
Our spirits though destined to wag;
In reflection of honor yet remembered
Permit me, oh God! to mention our flag.
When peace, its broad wings of prosperity,
Shall from ocean to ocean its lusts en-tag;
Then, as in the days of our minority,
Permit me, oh God! to reverence our flag.
When harmony, the veil of hostility,
Shall lift from our view its vices zig-zag;
There, in the peace and joy of tranquility,
Permit me, oh God! to insert our flag.
Hours in Dreamland
(Buffalo: The Peter Paul Book Company. 1896)