| |
| I LOVED to hear the war-horn cry, | |
| And panted at the drum’s deep roll; | |
| And held my breath, when—flaming high— | |
| I saw our starry banners fly, | |
| As challenging the haughty sky, | 5 |
| They went like battle o’er my soul: | |
| For I was so ambitious then, | |
| I burn’d to be the slave—of men. | |
| |
| I stood and saw the morning light, | |
| A standard swaying far and free, | 10 |
| And loved it like the conqu’ring flight | |
| Of angels floating wide and bright | |
| Above the stars, above the fight | |
| Where nations warr’d for liberty. | |
| And thought I heard the battle cry | 15 |
| Of trumpets in the hollow sky. | |
| |
| I sail’d upon the dark-blue deep: | |
| And shouted to the eaglet soaring; | |
| And hung me from a rocking steep, | |
| When all but spirits were asleep; | 20 |
| And oh, my very soul would leap | |
| To hear the gallant waters roaring; | |
| For every sound and shape of strife | |
| To me, was but the breath of life. | |
| |
| But, I am strangely alter’d now— | 25 |
| I love no more the bugle voice— | |
| The rushing wave—the plunging prow— | |
| The mountain with his clouded brow— | |
| The thunder when his blue skies bow, | |
| And all the sons of God rejoice— | 30 |
| I love to dream of tears and sighs | |
| And shadowy hair and half-shut eyes. | |
| |
