  No longer as an ornament, Adoring festive places, The flag is to the masthead sent, Before uplifted faces,— No longer as a children’s play We fling it to the breezes, With thoughtless praise on gala-days, When each acts as he pleases. But like a sacramental act Its raising is attended, When loyal hearts behold a pact In colors sweetly blended,— When men, responsive to its call, Make grim determination, That tyranny at last must fall Before a freeborn nation. And as it waves above their heads, ’Tis like a benediction Which sacredness and glory sheds On men of just conscription,— They stand aloof, they seem apart, Like heroes consecrated, To freedom dedicated. October, 1917 |
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