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And every star a State!
Look forth across thy widespread lands,
O flag, and let thy stars to-night be eyes

To see the visionary hosts
5 Of men and women grateful to be thine,

That joyfully arise
From all thy borders and thy coasts,
And follow after thee in endless line!

They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands; 10 They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar

Of cheers; and as the echo dies,
There comes a sweet and moving song
Of treble voices from the childish throng
Who run to thee from every school-house door.
Behold thine army! Here thy power lies :
The men whom freedom has made strong,
And bound to follow thee by willing vows;

The women greatened by the joys
Of motherhood to rule a happy house;

The vigorous girls and boys,
Whose eager faces and unclouded brows
Foretell the future of a noble race,
Rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth!

While millions such as these to thee belong, 25

What foe can do thee wrong,
What jealous rival rob thee of thy place

Foremost of all the flags of earth?

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O bright flag, O brave flag, 0 flag to lead the free !

The hand of God thy colors blent,
And heaven to earth thy glory lent,
To shield the weak, and guide the strong

To make an end of human wrong,
And draw a countless human host to follow after thee!

AMERICA FOR ME (1910)

BY HENRY VAN DYKE
'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
To admire crumbly castles and the statues of the kings
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.

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So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,
In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars

IO

Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;
And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair ;
And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study

Rome,
But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.

I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to

lack: The Past is too much with her, and the people looking

back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.

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Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling

sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean

bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. 20

THE CHALLENGE (1917) “The world must be made safe for democracy." — President

Wilson, April 2, 1917

BY DYSART MCMULLEN°
Not with the rolling voices of the guns,
Nor yet with sheen of sun on bayonet bright
Do we salute the world, this day of days,
Strong to uphold the right.

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Power shall answer might in days to come,
Shell speak to shell beneath a flaming sky,
And soldiers swarm the narrow ways of death
Proud of their chance to die.

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But that is for the future; here today
After long waiting have we found tongue,
And in forum of the world's acclaim
Immortal challenge flung.

He must be safe who delves with humble hands ! –
He must be safe who toils in storm and heat! -
Never again the plaything of dull kings
Chained to ambitious feet!

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Only for this we go into the murk:
Not for revenge

yea, though our dead be hid
Deep in the sea and call with clarion voice -
Our greatness must forbid.

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But to this monstrous thing which men have made
Out of long ages strong of hate and might
This bloody mask called Emperor or King,
This horror of the night -

We call a halt! and bid it stand and draw ! -
Beat the long roll and all our bugles play!
Hark well our challenge! Ye who crowd the night!
It is the dawn of day!

AN ODE OF DEDICATION (1917)

BY HERMANN HAGEDORN°

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Who would have thought a month of Spring

Could work so deep a change?
Who would have thought a dream could sting
The dead to new life, quivering,
And shake dull hearts with echoing

Of music new and strange ?
The deaf have heard a call,

The scoffers have heard a cry. Freedom moaned, “Give help! I fall!

Brother, your hand! I die!” The dumb have heard and spoken,

The sluggards have stirred;
A word, a dream, has broken

The sleep of the sepulchered !
Through the storm and the dark
Freedom flashed a spark,
And we who love her name
Burst into flame,
And came! :

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Who would have thought that April days

Could work such conjury?
Up from the crowded towns ablaze,
Up from the green hills, like a haze
Slow-rising to some magic lay's.

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Lo, how the spires ascend!

Lo, how the arches rise !
Lo, how the pinnacles pierce the clouds

To melt their glow with the sky's!
What miracle, Wyoming?

What high roof overspreads,
Kansas, your waving fields,

New York, your hurrying heads?
What roof strains to the stars

Over hill, over plain ?
What Gothic glory covers you both,

California, Maine?
In Florida, in Idaho,

The crystal walls aspire;
In Oregon, in Delaware,

Sings low the faint, far choir.
The valleys feel a sacred stir

In every leaf and clod;
And from every mountain, every hill,

The pillars loom up to God.

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Who said, "It is a booth where doves are sold!!

Who said, “It is a money-changers' cave?

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