Across my window blow the splendid folds
Of the great flag hung out for Victory
And Peace. They gleam through traceries of vine
And struggling plants, cherished through four grim years
For comfort, now in blossom. Everything
I see between the flutterings of the flag;
The unimportant doings in the street,
The homely houses opposite, the folk
Carelessly passing; and the flight of doves—
Peace doves—along a narrow strip of sky.
I see them glorified by red and white,
Under a blessed hidden field of stars.
And when I turn away to read or write,
My eyes are dazzled still by vivid flashes,
Caught from the floating colors. No escape
From thoughts of death heroic, life triumphant!
The room is full of red and white reflections.
The very picture-glasses are aglow
With patriotic fervor, not content
To be mere shields for ancient, precious things—
Precious for being ancient; they would share
The pride of present effort. Even shy prisms
Hung in old candelabra flush and pale
Alternately, with tremulous, caught emotion.
O Flag of sacrifice and chivalry,
Never before so dear! Your holy red
Dyed with the blood of hero-friends; your white
Clear like their vision; and your starry field
Steadfast with life devotion! Not again,
I think, shall I look out upon the world
But through the folds of your eternal glory.
Flash your fair challenge still across my window,
Flag of my Country!