And brows were dark, and words were few, the steps were quick and strong,
And firm the lips as ever his who treasures up a wrong;
And stern the tone that offered up the prayer beside the bed,
And many a Molly Stark that night wept silent tears of dread.
The bugles call, and swords are out, and armies march abreast,
And the old world casts a wondering glance to the strange light in the west;
Lo, from its lurid lightnings play, free tossing in the wind,
Bursts forth the star-gemmed flag that wraps the hopes of all mankind.
And weary eyes grew brighter then, and fainting hearts grew strong,
And hope was mingled in the cry, “How long, oh Lord, how long?”