Classic Poem

Lift up our country's banner high,
And fling abroad its gorgeous sheen,
Unrol its stripes upon the sky,
And let its lovely stars be seen!
Blood — blood is on its spangled fold!
Yet from the battle comes it not;
But all the waters oceans hold
Cannot wash out the guilty spot.

Up, freemen! up; determine, do
What Justice claims, what freemen may;
What frowning heav'n demands of you,
While yet its mutt'ring thunders stay: —
That ye, forever from this soil,
Bid S LAVERY'S with'ring blight depart,
And to the wretch restore the spoil,
Though ye can not the broken heart.

Lift up your brother from the dust,
And speak his long crush'd spirit FREE !
That millions, by your av'rice curst,
May sharers in your blessings be:
Then to the universe wide spread
Your glorious stars without a stain;
Bend from your skies, illustrious dead!
The land ye won is free again.