WHEN Freedom, on her natal day, Within her war-rocked cradle lay, An iron race around her stood, Baptized her infant brow in blood; And, through the storm which round her swept, Their constant ward and watching kept. Then, where our quiet herds repose, The roar of baleful battle rose, And brethren of a common tongue To mortal strife as tigers sprung, And every gift on Freedom's shrine Was man for beast, and blood for wine! Our fathers to their graves have gone; Their strife is past, their triumph won; But sterner trials wait the race Which rises in their honored place; A moral warfare with the crime And folly of an evil time. So let it be. In God's own might We gird us for the coming fight, And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons He has given, -- The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LETHE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOU SAY YOU SAID by MARIANNE MOORE THE PRICE OF WOMEN by KAREN SWENSON THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUSTINE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 24 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ODE: INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE DIFFERENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |