Classic Poem

Now from their slumber waking, —
The long sleep men thought death —
The War Gods rise, inhaling deep
The cannon's fiery breath!
Their mighty arms uplifted,
Their gleaming eyes aglow
With the steadfast light of battle,
As it blazed long years ago!

Now from the clouds they summon
The Captains of the Past,
Still sailing in their astral ships
The star-lit spaces vast;
And from Valhalla's peaceful plains
The Great Commanders come,
And marshal again their armies
To the beat of the muffled drum.

His phantom sails unfurling
McDonough sweeps amain
Where once his Yankee sailors fought
The battle of Champlain!
And over Erie's waters,
Again his flagship sweeps,
While Perry on the quarter-deck
His endless vigil keeps.

Silent as mists that hover
When twilight shadows fall,
The ghosts of the royal armies
Foregather at the call;
And their glorious chiefs are with them,
From conflicts lost or won,
As they gather round one mighty shade,
The shade of Washington!
. . . . . . . .

Side by side with the warships
That sail for the hostile fleet,
The ships of the Past are sailing
And the dauntless comrades meet;
And standing shoulder to shoulder,
The armed spirits come,
And march with our own battalions
To the beat of the muffled drum!