It should be needless to note that the persons here addressed do
not comprise the whole American people but a certain distinctive
type.
Oh little men and sheltered--
Oh fatted pigs of a sty,
Through the Star Spangled Banner ye calmly sit,
Nor see the wrong, nor the why,
And ye stand with your hats on your thoughtless heads,
When the Flag of the Nation goes by.
Has the lust of the dollar gripped you
Till the fetid brain’s grown cold,
Till ye forget the days that are set
And the glorious deeds of old--
And the Song and the Passing Colors
Are drowned in a flood of gold?
Awake from your listless lethargy--
Arise and understand
The battle-hymn of your fathers--
And the Flag of your Fatherland--
As it rose to the hum of the feet that come
To the drum and the bugle’s call;
As it tasted the dregs of raw reverse--
As it rushed through the breach in the wall:
As it fell again on the gore-wet plain
Till new hands swung it high--
As it dipped in rest to East and West
Where it watched its Children die:
As it swept anew o’er the shotted blue,
And the great gulls reeled in fright;
As it bore the brave ’neath the whispering wave
To the Squadron’s hushed Goodnight:
As it mounted sheer ’mid cheer on cheer,
Till, far o’er land and sea,
It gave each fold to the sunlight’s gold--
And the name of Victory.
Then on your feet when the first proud strain
Of the Anthem rolls on high--
And see that ye stand uncovered
To the Colors passing by
And pray to your God for strength to guard
The Flag ye glorify.