Hymn Of The Moravian Nuns Of Bethlehem, At The Consecration Of Pulaski's Banner.

    When the dying flame of day
    Through the chancel shot its ray,
    Far the glimmering tapers shed
    Faint light on the cowled head;
    And the censer burning swung,
    Where, before the altar, hung
    The blood-red banner, that with prayer
    Had been consecrated there.
And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.

    "Take thy banner!    May it wave
    Proudly o'er the good and brave;
    When the battle's distant wail
    Breaks the sabbath of our vale,
    When the clarion's music thrills
    To the hearts of these lone hills,
    When the spear in conflicts shakes,
    And the strong lance shivering breaks.

    "Take thy banner! and, beneath
    The battle-cloud's encircling wreath,
    Guard it! - till our homes are free!
    Guard it! - God will prosper thee!
    In the dark and trying hour,
    In the breaking forth of power,
    In the rush of steeds and men,
    His right hand will shield thee then.

    "Take thy banner!    But, when night
    Closes round the ghastly fight,
    If the vanquished warrior bow,
    Spare him! - By our holy vow,
    By our prayers and many tears,
    By the mercy that endears,
    Spare him! - he our love hath shared!
    Spare him! - as thou wouldst be spared!

    "Take thy banner! and if e'er
    Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
    And the muffled drum should beat
    To the tread of mournful feet,
    Then this crimson flag shall be
    Martial cloak and shroud for thee."

The warrior took that banner proud,
And it was his martial cloak and shroud!

William Henry Giles Kingston

William Henry Giles Kingston was an English writer of boys' adventure novels, often with a maritime focus. Born on February 28, 1814, he wrote numerous works that became staples of juvenile literature in the 19th century. Kingston's novels, such as "The Three Midshipmen" series, were known for their vibrant storytelling and detailed depictions of naval life. He passed away on August 5, 1880, leaving a legacy as a prominent figure in children's literature.

William Henry Giles Kingston

Burial Of The Minnisink.

William Henry Giles Kingston, Simple Poetry

Voices Of The Night. Prelude.

William Henry Giles Kingston, Simple Poetry

Midnight Mass For The Dying Year.

William Henry Giles Kingston, Simple Poetry

An April Day.

William Henry Giles Kingston, Simple Poetry

English

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Hymn Of The Moravian Nuns Of Bethlehem At The Consecration Of Pulaski's Banner.

When the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head;
And the censer burning swung,
Where, before the altar, hung
The crimson banner, that with prayer
Had been consecrated there.
And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low, in the dim, mysterious aisle.

    "Take thy banner!    May it wave
        Proudly o'er the good and brave;
        When the battle's distant wail
        Breaks the sabbath of our vale.
        When the clarion's music thrills
        To the hearts of these lone hills,
        When the spear in conflict shakes,
        And the strong lance shivering breaks.

    "Take thy banner! and, beneath
        The battle-cloud's encircling wre...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The American Flag.

I.

When Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand,
The symbol of her chosen land.

II.

Majestic monarch of the cloud,
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumpings loud
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,
Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sul...

Joseph Rodman Drake

The Flag Of Brothers.

There is blood upon the Banner, the Banner of the Free,
There is blood upon our Banner, and it lies 'twixt you and me,
And, like the blood of Abel, it crieth from the sod,
And it crieth unto God throughout the Morning.

There's a blot upon the Banner, the Banner of the Free,
There's a blot upon our Banner, and it lies 'twixt you and me,
And, like the soul of Samuel, it riseth from the clod,
And it crieth unto God throughout the Nooning.

There's a curse upon the Banner, the Banner of the Free,
There's a curse upon our Banner, and it lies 'twixt you and me,
And, like the curse of Cain, it scars our brows with pain,
And it sears a Brother's brain throughout the E'ening.

May the Lord now bleach this Banner, the Banner of the Free,
And keep t...

A. H. Laidlaw

The Conquered Banner

Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary;
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary;
    Furl it, fold it, it is best;
For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;
And its foes now scorn and brave it;
    Furl it, hide it -- let it rest!

Take that Banner down! 'tis tattered;
Broken is its staff and shattered;
And the valiant hosts are scattered
    Over whom it floated high.
Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it;
Hard to think there's none to hold it;
Hard that those who once unrolled it
    Now must furl it with a sigh.

Furl that Banner! furl it sadly!
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
    Swore it should forever wav...

Abram Joseph Ryan

Address To The Flag

Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag!
Emblem of hope to all the misruled world:
Thy field of golden stars is rent and red
Dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilled
By brother-hands upon the mother-soil.
O fatal Upas of the savage Nile,^[CT]
Transplanted hither rooted multiplied
Watered with bitter tears and sending forth
Thy venom-vapors till the land is mad,
Thy day is done. A million blades are swung
To lay thy jungles open to the sun;
A million torches fire thy blasted boles;
A million hands shall drag thy fibers out
And feed the fires till every root and branch
Lie in dead ashes. From the blackened soil,
Enriched and moistened with fraternal blood,
Beside the palm shall spring the olive-tree,
And every breeze shall waft the happy ...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

The Banner Of The Jew.

Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day
The glorious Maccabean rage,
The sire heroic, hoary-gray,
His five-fold lion-lineage:
The Wise, the Elect, the Help-of-God,
The Burst-of-Spring, the Avenging Rod.*


From Mizpeh's mountain-ridge they saw
Jerusalem's empty streets, her shrine
Laid waste where Greeks profaned the Law,
With idol and with pagan sign.
Mourners in tattered black were there,
With ashes sprinkled on their hair.


Then from the stony peak there rang
A blast to ope the graves: down poured
The Maccabean clan, who sang
Their battle-anthem to the Lord.
Five heroes lead, and following, see,
Ten thousand rush to victory!


Oh for Jerusalem's trumpet now,
To blow a blast of shattering power,
To wake the sleepe...

Emma Lazarus