Page:The poems of Robert W. Sterling, 1916.djvu/43

Hail Ah! welcome the Word;

Wherever the red flag flutters

And a people's heart is true,

Wherever the olden songs are heard

Commingling with the new;

Where they think on sea-girt Britain,

And fight the wilful tears;

And the old home is the dear home

To wistful sojourners.

As when a weary captive lies,

Pale-peering through the bars,

And a noble thought flushes his brain,

And, all oblivious of pain,

His soul soars upward to the skies

And the bright joy-sobbing stars:

So, men on earth, O myriad-minded throng,

Scorning your narrow fetters, upward soar,

And with one voice to the wild air outpour

The thunderous magic of the patriots' song:

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