Hail
Ah! welcome the Word;
Wherever the red flag flutters
And a people's heart is true,
Wherever the olden songs are heard
Commingling with the new;
Where they think on sea-girt Britain,
And fight the wilful tears;
And the old home is the dear home
To wistful sojourners.
As when a weary captive lies,
Pale-peering through the bars,
And a noble thought flushes his brain,
And, all oblivious of pain,
His soul soars upward to the skies
And the bright joy-sobbing stars:
So, men on earth, O myriad-minded throng,
Scorning your narrow fetters, upward soar,
And with one voice to the wild air outpour
The thunderous magic of the patriots' song:
21
