THE NAME OF OLD GLORY

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

LD Glory! Say, who

OLD

By the ships and the crew,

And the long blended ranks of the gray and the blue,
Who gave you, Old Glory, the name that you bear
With such pride everywhere

As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air
And leap out full-length, as we're wanting you to?
Who gave you that name with the ring of the same,
And the honor and fame so becoming to you?
Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red,
With your stars at their glittering best overhead -
By day or by night

Their delightfulest light

Laughing down from their little square heaven of blue —
Who gave you the name of Old Glory! - Say, who
Who gave you the name of Old Glory?

The old banner lifted, and faltering then
In vague lisps and whispers fell silent again.

Old Glory, speak out! We are asking about
How you happened to "favor" a name, so to say,
That sounds so familiar and careless and gay
As we cheer it and shout it in our wild breezy way
We the crowd, every man of us, calling you that—
We - Tom, Dick, and Harry, each swinging his hat
And hurrahing “Old Glory!" like you were our kin,
When

Lord! we all know we're as com:non as sin!

And yet it just seems like you humor us all

And waft us your thanks, as we hail you and fall Into line, with you over us, waving us on

Where our glorified, sanctified betters have gone.— And this is the reason we're wanting to know

(And we're wanting it so!

Where our own fathers went we are willing to go.)
Who gave you the name of Old Glory-O-ho!-
Who gave you the name of Old Glory?

The old flag unfurled with a billowy thrill
For an instant, then wistfully sighed and was still.

Old Glory: the story we're wanting to hear
Is what the plain facts of your christening were,—
For your name just to hear it,

Repeat it, and cheer it, 's a tang to the spirit
As salt as a tear,

And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by,
There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the eye
And an aching to live for you always —— or die,
If, dying, we still keep you waving on high.
And so, by our love

For you floating above,

And the scars of all wars and the sorrows thereof, Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why

Are we thrilled at the name of Old Glory?

Then the old banner leaped, like a sail in the blast, And fluttered an audible answer at last.

And it spake, with a shake of the voice, and it said: By the driven snow-white and the living blood-red Of my bars, and their Heaven of stars overhead

By the symbol conjoined of them all, skyward cast,
As I float from the steeple, or flap at the mast,
Or droop o'er the sod where the long grasses nod,-
My name is as old as the glory of God.

So I came by the name of Old Glory.

A SONG OF CLOVER

SAXE HOLM

WONDER what the Clover thinks,
Intimate friend of Bob-o'-links.
Lover of Daisies slim and white,
Waltzer with Buttercups at night;
Keeper of Inn for traveling Bees,
Serving to them wine dregs and lees,
Left by the Royal Humming Birds,
Who sip and pay with finespun words;
Fellow with all the lowliest,

Peer of the gayest and the best;
Comrade of winds, beloved of sun,
Kissed by the Dewdrops, one by one;
Prophet of Good-Luck mystery
By sign of four which few may see;
Symbol of Nature's magic zone;
One out of three, and three in one;
Emblem of comfort in the speech
Which poor men's babies early reach;

Sweet by the road sides, sweet by the rills,
Sweet in the meadows, sweet on the hills,
Sweet in its white, sweet in its red, –

Oh, half its sweetness cannot be said;
Sweet in its every living breath,
Sweetest, perhaps, at last, in death!
Oh, who knows what the clover thinks?
No one, unless the Bob-o'-links!

A VISIT FROM THE SEA

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

NAR from the loud sea beaches

FAR

Where he goes fishing and crying,

Here in the inland garden

Why is the sea gull flying?

Here are no fish to dive for;

Here is the corn and lea;

Here are the green trees rustling.

Hie away home to sea.

Fresh is the river water

And quiet among the res;

This is no home for the sea gull,

But for the rooks and the thrushes.

Pity the bird that has wandered!
Pity the sailor ashore!

Hurry him home to the ocean,

Let him come here no more!

High on the sea-cliff ledges

The white gulls are trooping and crying; Here among rooks and roses,

'Why is the sea gull flying?

FAREWELL! A LONG FAREWELL TO ALL

FA

MY GREATNESS

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

AREWELL! A long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world I hate ye! I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have, And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.