| |
| TAKE that banner down, ’t is weary; | |
| Round its staff ’t is drooping dreary; | |
| Furl it, fold it, let it rest; | |
| For there ’s not a man to wave it, | |
| For there ’s not a sword to save it, | 5 |
| In the blood that heroes gave it; | |
| And its foes now scorn and brave it: | |
| Furl it, hide it, let it rest. | |
| |
| Take that banner down, ’t is tattered,— | |
| Broken is its staff and shattered; | 10 |
| And the valiant hosts are scattered, | |
| Over whom it floated high. | |
| Oh, ’t is hard for us to fold it! | |
| Hard to think there ’s none to hold it; | |
| Hard, for those who once unrolled it, | 15 |
| Now must furl it with a sigh. | |
| |
| Furl that banner, furl it sadly; | |
| Once six millions hailed it gladly, | |
| And ten thousand wildly, madly | |
| Swore it should forever wave; | 20 |
| Swore that foeman’s sword should never | |
| Hearts like theirs entwined dissever; | |
| And that flag should float forever | |
| O’er their freedom or their grave. | |
| |
| Furl it, for the hands that grasped it, | 25 |
| And the hearts that fondly clasped it, | |
| Cold and dead are lying low; | |
| And that banner, it is trailing, | |
| While around it sounds the wailing | |
| Of its people in their woe. | 30 |
| |
| For, though conquered, they adore it,— | |
| Love the cold, dead hands that bore it; | |
| Weep for those who fell before it; | |
| Pardon those who trail and tore it: | |
| Oh, how wildly they deplore it, | 35 |
| Now to furl and fold it so! | |
| |
| Furl that banner! True, ’t is gory; | |
| But ’t is wreathed around with glory, | |
| And ’t will live in song and story, | |
| Though its folds are in the dust; | 40 |
| For its fame on brightest pages, | |
| Penned by poets and by sages, | |
| Shall go sounding down the ages: | |
| Furl its folds, for now we must. | |
| |
| Furl that banner softly, slowly; | 45 |
| Furl it gently,—it is holy,— | |
| For it droops above the dead: | |
| Touch it not,—unfurl it never,— | |
| Let it droop there, furled forever, | |
| For its people’s hopes are fled. | 50 |
| |
