His cheeks like the roses his grandmother grew,
Shot through with a dimple the size of a dew
Which gives to his smile irresistible grace
As his sister looks down in his uplifted face;
In such bright-shining faces our true eyes may see
The love which shall honor our Flag of the Free.
Whatever they say, however they brag,
’Tis these put the red in our flag,
Not our patriot deaths,
Not our gold nor our lands,