The Eagle

The country of our sires was great of soul; And, if she draws to battle, it must be She bares her sword for peace with liberty, Justice her standard pure, honor her goal. She mails her hand to write a later scroll, And share with all mankind her destiny; Though God has bastioned her with either sea, Freedom hath no frontiers. Where heaven doth roll,

Fly forth, great Eagle, that of old didst sit At Jove's right hand beside the wakeful throne! Gazer on vast horizons battle-lit, With mightier pinions fly to nobler wars! Soar in the zenith, heavenly bird, alone, And o'er the storm bear in thy beak the stars!