New The English Language World and Old Give me of every language, first my vigorous Glory English Stored with imported wealth, rich in its natural mines Grand in its rhythmical cadence, simple for household employment— Worthy the poet's song, fit for the speech of a man. Fitted for every use like a great majestical river, Blending thy various streams, stately thou flowest along, Bearing the white-winged ship of Poesy over thy bosom, Laden with spices that come out of the tropical isles, Fancy's pleasuring yacht with its bright and fluttering pennons, Logic's frigates of war and the toil-worn barges of trade. How art thou freely obedient unto the poet or speaker When, in a happy hour, thought into speech he translates; Caught on the word's sharp angles flash the New World and Old bright hues of his fancyGrandly the thought rides the words, as a good "Glory horseman his steed. WILLIAM WETMORE STORY. To America On a Proposed Alliance Between Two Great Nations. What is the voice I hear On the winds of the western sea? Sentinel, listen from out Cape Clear And say what the voice may be. "Tis a proud free people calling loud to a And it says to them: "Kinsmen, hail; Now let us have done with a worn-out tale— The tale of ancient wrong And our friendship last long as our love doth Answer them, sons of the self-same race, Let us speak with each other face to face And answer as man to man, And loyally love and trust each other as none but free men can. New Now fling them out the breeze, World and Old Glory Shamrock, Thistle, and Rose, And the Star-Spangled Banner unfurl with these A message to friends and foes Wherever the sails of peace are seen and wher A message to bond and thrall to wake, The throne of the tyrant shall rock and quake, For you are lords of a strong land and we are Yes, this is the voice of the bluff March gale; But now we have done with a worn-out tale- And our friendship last long as love doth last ALFRED AUSTIN. The Name of Old Glory New World and Old 1898 Old Glory! say, who By the ships and the crew, And the long, blended ranks of the Gray and the Blue Who gave you Old Glory, the name that you bear As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air, Who gave you that name, with the ring of the same, And the honor and fame so becoming to you? red, With your stars at their glittering best overhead By day or by night Their delightfulest light Laughing down from their little square heaven of blue! Who gave you the name of Old Glory-say, who Who gave you the name of Old Glory? The old banner lifted and faltering then In vague lisps and whispers fell silent again. Glory New Old Glory: the story we're wanting to hear World Is what the plain facts of your christening and Old Glory were, For your name-just to hear it, Repeat it, and cheer it, 's a tang to the spirit And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by, eye, And an aching to live for you always—or die, For you, floating above, And the scars of all wars and the sorrow thereof, Then the old banner leaped like a sail in the blast And fluttered an audible answer at last. And it spake with a shake of the voice, and it said: By the driven snow-white and the living blood red Of my bars and their heaven of stars overheadBy the symbol conjoined of them all, skywarά cast, As I float from the steeple or flap at the mast, |