Wildly pours our hearts' blood on thee—crimson current warm and true,
Each dead hero links us closer—float on Flag, Red, White, and Blue!
God of Union, smile upon us!
Flag of Union, greet the skies!
On thy stars and chording colors
Every hope for mortals lies!
Blasted be the hand would strike thee!
Blighted heart and palsied brain!
Float till earth knows no oppression,
Falsehood, bondage, slavery, pain!
Chorus:
Float, Flag of love; fused States and lives! shine stars on God's own Blue!
Love's crimson current gird them close! white-winged Peace wind through!
M. W. C.
THE GOOD GODDESS OF POVERTY.
[A Prose Ballad, translated from the French.]
We think the following beautiful Chant, in honor of the good goddess whose favors we are too apt to scorn, and whom we persist in treating with dire ingratitude, cannot fail to prove acceptable to the readers of the Editor's Table.
M. W. C.