Poems (Larcom)/The Flag

by Lucy Larcom

THE FLAG.

[June 17, 1865.]

LET it idly droop, or sway To the wind's light will; Furl its stars, or float in day;  Flutter, or be still! It has held its colors bright,  Through the war-smoke dun; Spotless emblem of the Right,  Whence success was won.

Let it droop in graceful rest  For a passing hour,—Glory's banner, last and best;  Freedom's freshest flower! Each red stripe has blazoned forth  Gospels writ in blood; Every star has sung the birth  Of some deathless good.

Let it droop, but not too long!  On the eager wind Bid it wave, to shame the wrong,  To inspire mankind With a larger human love;  With a truth as true As the heaven that broods above  Its deep field of blue.

In the gathering hosts of hope,  In the march of man, Open for it place and scope,  Bid it lead the van; Till beneath the searching skies,  Martyr-blood be found, Purer than our sacrifice,  Crying from the ground:—

Till a flag with some new light  Out of Freedom's sky, Kindles, through the gulfs of night,  Glory yet more high. Let its glow the darkness drown!  Give our banner sway; Till its joyful stars go down,  In undreamed-of day!