Washington's Name

At the heart of our country the tyrant was leaping,
To dye there the point of his dagger in gore,
When Washington sprang from the watch he was keeping,
And drove back that tyrant in shame from our shore:
The cloud that hung o'er us then parted and rolled
Its wreaths far away, deeply tinctured with flame;
And high on its fold
Was a legend that told
The brightness that circled our Washington's name.

Long years have rolled on, and the sun still has brightened
Our mountains and fields with its ruddiest glow;
And the bolt that he wielded so proudly, has lightened,
With a flash as intense, in the face of the foe:
On the land and the sea, the wide banner has rolled
O'er many a chief, on his passage to fame;
And still on its fold
Shine in letters of gold
The glory and worth of our Washington's name.

And so it shall be, while eternity tarries,
And pauses to tread in the footsteps of time;
The bird of the tempest, whose quick pinion carries
Our arrows of vengeance, shall hover sublime:
Wherever that flag on the wind shall be rolled,
All hearts shall be kindled with anger and shame,
If e'er they are told
They are careless and cold,
In the glory that circles our Washington's name.
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