Classic Poem

Hurrah, the noble color guard,
How grandly they are led!
Though many fall by steel and ball,
Right gallantly they tread!
Hurrah, the eagle points the way,
And never be it said,
That living soldier fought to-day,
Less bravely than the dead.

Hurrah, through storms of shot and shell
The colors proudly fly,
The patriot marks their progress well,
And follows, though he die;
The dead behind, the foe before.
Above, the pitying sky,
And hark, o'er all the cannon's roar,
Hurrah, — 'tis victory!

The colors that so proudly flew
Are blackened now, and torn;
The color guard, alas, how few
Of all who hailed the morn!
But yet, hurrah, the foemen fly,
The bloody day is won,
And other gallant forms supply
Their place whose deeds are done!