ues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet!
Where breathes the foe but falls before us
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

This is a poem that may need a little explanation if every one is to
appreciate it.

How fancifully the poet tells of the origin of the flag in the first
stanza! The blue field and the stars are taken from the sky, and the
white from the milky way which stretches like a broad scarf or baldric
across the heavens. The red is from the first red streaks that in the
morning flash across the eastern skies to herald the rising sun. The
eagle, our national bird who supports the shield in our coat of arms,
had by the old legends the power to fly full in the face of the sun, and
to shield its eyes from the blaze was gifted with a third eyelid. In the
talons of this lordly bird Freedom placed our chosen banner.

The second stanza continues the tribute to the eagle. To this regal bird
it is given to fling high among the clouds and smoke of battle our
brilliant banner, whose bright colors like the rainbow signify victory
and peace--the flag of victory, the bow of promise.

The remainder of the lines are so clear in their meaning and so smooth
in their structure that they stir our blood with patriotic fire.

BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC

_By_ JULIA WARD HOWE

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword.
His truth is marching on.

I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat:
O, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me;
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While G