Poems (Chilton, 1885)/The Crisis
THE CRISIS.
[SEPTEMBER, 1872.]
The cannons' thunders jar the air,
While mingled with the battle cry
Swells the blown bugle's ringing blare;
But over all I hear the prayer
Breathed by our sires in days gone by.
While mingled with the battle cry
Swells the blown bugle's ringing blare;
But over all I hear the prayer
Breathed by our sires in days gone by.
'Twas theirs to win; 'tis ours to guard;
They faltered not when faint and few;
And shall we deem the service hard
Who bear the banner many-starred,
O'er which their victor eagle flew?
They faltered not when faint and few;
And shall we deem the service hard
Who bear the banner many-starred,
O'er which their victor eagle flew?
O not in vain their memories plead
That we should walk the narrow way,
Content to scorn each selfish creed,
And in our fathers' valor read
The noble lesson of To-Day.
That we should walk the narrow way,
Content to scorn each selfish creed,
And in our fathers' valor read
The noble lesson of To-Day.