And raise to immortality the rag.
V
By W-LL—M C-LL-N B-Y-NT
The sun sinks softly to his Ev’ning Post,
The sun swells grandly to his morning crown;
Yet not a star our Flag of Heav’n has lost,
And not a sunset stripe with him goes down.
So thrones may fall, and from the dust of those
New thrones may rise, to totter like the last;
But still our Country’s nobler planet glows
While the eternal stars of Heaven are fast.