The Poems of John Rollin Ridge
by Jeff Ward

Originally Published by Henry Payot & Company, Publishers.

Oh star-gemmed banner of the free,
Thou streamest still on high,
A living beacon to the world,
The glory of our sky.

To thee the gazing millions turn,
With patriot hopes and fears,
Brave men with burning glance uplift,
Fair women with their tears.

As blazing in the van of war,
As flashing in its cloud,
Amid the rolling thunders' peals,
We call to thee aloud.

Oh! banner that our fathers loved,
That shadows yet their graves
Still with thy strong winged eagle speed
Where the tempests brave.

Oh never may thy stars go down,
Or in the battle pale;
Or hands grow weak that bear thee up.
Or hearts beneath thee quail.

As on the flaming war-tide borne
And in its hot breath tost.
Now seen amidst the rifled gloom,
Now in the darkness lost.

Oh how we watch where yet thou art,
As on the battle wears,
And rising, sinking, follow thee
With thousand, thousand prayers.

Those prayers, O God shall not be vain—
Descended from the sky,
With bosom bared, and sword of fire
Upleaping from her thigh,

A new Minerva treads the plain;
She snatches from the gloom
Her country's flag and bears it
As with the Step of doom.

Ah well she knows, fair Liberty,
How sacred is the name
Of that, her conquering arm defends,
How glorious is its fame.

And not unused unto the strife
Where deeds for Right are done,
The earthquake which her cradle rocked
Saw birth of Washington.

In that great name and in her own,
She bares her arm for blood,
And bending to the fates on high,
She strikes for man and God.

Thus, holy flag into her hand
Thy future's all we give,
Assured thou canst not stoop to dust,
While she herself shall live!