Caught on the word's sharp angles flash the

bright hues of his fancy

Grandly the thought rides the words, as a good

New World and Old 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 people proud and free.

And it says to them: "Kinsmen, hail;

We severed have been too long.

Now let us have done with a worn-out tale

The tale of ancient wrong

And our friendship last long as our love doth
and be stronger than death is strong."

Answer them, sons of the self-same race,
And blood of the self-same clan;

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 World and Old

Glory

Now fling them out the breeze,

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-
ever the war wind blows—

A message to bond and thrall to wake,
For wherever we come, we twain,

The throne of the tyrant shall rock and quake,
And his menace be void and vain,

For you are lords of a strong land and we are
lords of the main.

Yes, this is the voice of the bluff March gale;
We severed have been too long,

But now we have done with a worn-out tale—
The tale of an ancient wrong—

And our friendship last long as love doth last
and stronger than death is strong.

ALFRED AUSTIN.

The Name of Old Glory

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
With such pride everywhere,

As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air,
And leap out full length, as we're wanting you
to?

Who gave you that name, with the ring of the

same,

And the honor and fame so becoming to you? Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of 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.

New World and Old

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
As salt as a tear;-

And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by,
There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the

eye,

And an aching to live for you always-or die,
If, dying, we still keep you waving on high.
And so, by our love

For you, floating above,

And the scars of all wars and the sorrow thereof,
Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why
Are we thrilled at the name of Old Glory?

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, skyward cast,

As I float from the steeple or flap at the mast,

Or droop o'er the sod where the long grasses

nod,

My name is as old as the glory of God.

So I came by the name of Old Glory.
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

From "Home Folks."

New World and Old Glory