Excerpt
Flag of The Free
Flag of the free, our sable siresHave borne thee oft beforeInto hot battles' hell-lit fires,Against the fiercest foe.When first he shook his shaggy mein,And made the welkin ring,Brave Attucks fell upon the Plain,Thy stripes first crimsoning! Thy might and majesty we hurl,Against the bolts of Mars;And from thy ample folds unfurlThy field of flaming stars!Fond hope to nations in distress,Thy starry gleam shall give;The stricken in the wildernessShall look to thee and live. What matter if where Boreas roars,Or where sweet zephyr smiles?What matter if where eagle soars,Or in the sunlit isles?Thy flowing crimson stripes shall waveAbove the bluish brine;Emblazoned ensign of the brave,And Liberty enshrine! Flag of the free, still float on highThrough every age to come;Bright beacon of the azure sky,True light of Freedom's dome.'Till nations all shall cease to gropeIn vain for liberty—O shine, last lingering star of hopeOf all humanity! —EDWARD SMYTH JONES.
Transcriber's note: The word 'mein' in the fifth line of the poem may represent an archaic spelling of the word mien. It has been left as printed in the original....