ROBERT HENRY NEWELL.

('ORPHEUS C. KERR')

I.(BRYANT)The sun sinks softly to his evening post,The sun swells grandly to his morning crown;Yet not a star our flag of Heav'n has lost,And not a sunset stripe with him goes down.So thrones may fall; and from the dust of those,New thrones may rise, to totter like the last;But still our country's nobler planet glowsWhile the eternal stars of Heaven are fast.II.(EMERSON)Source immaterial of material naught,Focus of light infinitesimal,Sum of all things by sleepless Nature wrought,Of which the abnormal man is decimal.Refract, in prism immortal, from thy starsTo the stars blent incipient on our flag,The beam translucent, neutrifying death;And raise to immortality the rag.III.(WILLIS)One hue of our flag is takenFrom the cheeks of my blushing Pet,And its stars beat time and sparkleLike the studs on her chemisette.Its blue is the ocean shadowThat hides in her dreamy eyes,It conquers all men, like her,And still for a Union flies.

The sun sinks softly to his evening post,The sun swells grandly to his morning crown;Yet not a star our flag of Heav'n has lost,And not a sunset stripe with him goes down.

The sun sinks softly to his evening post,

The sun swells grandly to his morning crown;

Yet not a star our flag of Heav'n has lost,

And not a sunset stripe with him goes down.

So thrones may fall; and from the dust of those,New thrones may rise, to totter like the last;But still our country's nobler planet glowsWhile the eternal stars of Heaven are fast.

So thrones may fall; and from the dust of those,

New thrones may rise, to totter like the last;

But still our country's nobler planet glows

While the eternal stars of Heaven are fast.

Source immaterial of material naught,Focus of light infinitesimal,Sum of all things by sleepless Nature wrought,Of which the abnormal man is decimal.

Source immaterial of material naught,

Focus of light infinitesimal,

Sum of all things by sleepless Nature wrought,

Of which the abnormal man is decimal.

Refract, in prism immortal, from thy starsTo the stars blent incipient on our flag,The beam translucent, neutrifying death;And raise to immortality the rag.

Refract, in prism immortal, from thy stars

To the stars blent incipient on our flag,

The beam translucent, neutrifying death;

And raise to immortality the rag.

One hue of our flag is takenFrom the cheeks of my blushing Pet,And its stars beat time and sparkleLike the studs on her chemisette.Its blue is the ocean shadowThat hides in her dreamy eyes,It conquers all men, like her,And still for a Union flies.

One hue of our flag is taken

From the cheeks of my blushing Pet,

And its stars beat time and sparkle

Like the studs on her chemisette.

Its blue is the ocean shadow

That hides in her dreamy eyes,

It conquers all men, like her,

And still for a Union flies.

IV.(LONGFELLOW)Back in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarchOver the sea-ribb'd land of the fleet-footed Norsemen,Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens—Ursa, the noblest of all the Vikings and horsemen.Musing, he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon,Where the Aurora lapt stars in a North-polar manner,Wildly he started—for there in the heavens before himFlutter'd and flew the original Star-Spangled Banner.

Back in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarchOver the sea-ribb'd land of the fleet-footed Norsemen,Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens—Ursa, the noblest of all the Vikings and horsemen.

Back in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarch

Over the sea-ribb'd land of the fleet-footed Norsemen,

Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens—

Ursa, the noblest of all the Vikings and horsemen.

Musing, he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon,Where the Aurora lapt stars in a North-polar manner,Wildly he started—for there in the heavens before himFlutter'd and flew the original Star-Spangled Banner.

Musing, he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon,

Where the Aurora lapt stars in a North-polar manner,

Wildly he started—for there in the heavens before him

Flutter'd and flew the original Star-Spangled Banner.

V.(WHITTIER)My native land, thy Puritanic stockStills finds its roots firm-bound in Plymouth Rock,And all thy sons unite in one grand wish—To keep the virtues of Preservéd Fish.Preservéd Fish the Deacon stern and trueTold our New England what her sons should do,And should they swerve from loyalty and right,Then the whole land were lost indeed in night.VI.(HOLMES)A diagnosis of our hist'ry provesOur native land a land its native loves;Its birth a deed obstetric without peer,Its growth a source of wonder far and near.To love it more behold, how foreign shoresSink into nothingness beside its stores;Hyde Park at best—though counted ultra-grand—The 'Boston Common' of Victoria's land.VII.(STODDARD)Behold the flag! Is it not a flag?Deny it, man, if you dare;And midway spread, 'twixt earth and sky,It hangs like a written prayer.Would impious hand of foe disturbIts memories' holy spell,And blight it with a dew of blood?Ha, tr-r-aitor!!.... It is well.VIII.(ALDRICH)The little brown squirrel hops in the cornThe cricket quaintly sings;The emerald pigeon nods his head,And the shad in the river springs,The dainty sunflower hangs its headOn the shore of the summer sea;And better far that I were dead,If Maud did not love me.I love the squirrel that hops in the corn,And the cricket that quaintly sings;And the emerald pigeon that nods his head,And the shad that gaily springs.I love the dainty sunflower, too,And Maud with her snowy breast;I love them all;—but I love—I love—I love my country best.

My native land, thy Puritanic stockStills finds its roots firm-bound in Plymouth Rock,And all thy sons unite in one grand wish—To keep the virtues of Preservéd Fish.

My native land, thy Puritanic stock

Stills finds its roots firm-bound in Plymouth Rock,

And all thy sons unite in one grand wish—

To keep the virtues of Preservéd Fish.

Preservéd Fish the Deacon stern and trueTold our New England what her sons should do,And should they swerve from loyalty and right,Then the whole land were lost indeed in night.

Preservéd Fish the Deacon stern and true

Told our New England what her sons should do,

And should they swerve from loyalty and right,

Then the whole land were lost indeed in night.

A diagnosis of our hist'ry provesOur native land a land its native loves;Its birth a deed obstetric without peer,Its growth a source of wonder far and near.

A diagnosis of our hist'ry proves

Our native land a land its native loves;

Its birth a deed obstetric without peer,

Its growth a source of wonder far and near.

To love it more behold, how foreign shoresSink into nothingness beside its stores;Hyde Park at best—though counted ultra-grand—The 'Boston Common' of Victoria's land.

To love it more behold, how foreign shores

Sink into nothingness beside its stores;

Hyde Park at best—though counted ultra-grand—

The 'Boston Common' of Victoria's land.

Behold the flag! Is it not a flag?Deny it, man, if you dare;And midway spread, 'twixt earth and sky,It hangs like a written prayer.

Behold the flag! Is it not a flag?

Deny it, man, if you dare;

And midway spread, 'twixt earth and sky,

It hangs like a written prayer.

Would impious hand of foe disturbIts memories' holy spell,And blight it with a dew of blood?Ha, tr-r-aitor!!.... It is well.

Would impious hand of foe disturb

Its memories' holy spell,

And blight it with a dew of blood?

Ha, tr-r-aitor!!.... It is well.

The little brown squirrel hops in the cornThe cricket quaintly sings;The emerald pigeon nods his head,And the shad in the river springs,The dainty sunflower hangs its headOn the shore of the summer sea;And better far that I were dead,If Maud did not love me.

The little brown squirrel hops in the corn

The cricket quaintly sings;

The emerald pigeon nods his head,

And the shad in the river springs,

The dainty sunflower hangs its head

On the shore of the summer sea;

And better far that I were dead,

If Maud did not love me.

I love the squirrel that hops in the corn,And the cricket that quaintly sings;And the emerald pigeon that nods his head,And the shad that gaily springs.I love the dainty sunflower, too,And Maud with her snowy breast;I love them all;—but I love—I love—I love my country best.

I love the squirrel that hops in the corn,

And the cricket that quaintly sings;

And the emerald pigeon that nods his head,

And the shad that gaily springs.

I love the dainty sunflower, too,

And Maud with her snowy breast;

I love them all;—but I love—I love—

I love my country best.

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