The Banner of the Free

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 54 Chatham Street, New-York.

The Banner Of The Free.

He lay upon the battle-field,
Near the Chickomony’s tide:
His life-blood flowing on the ground,
From a deep wound in his side;
He cried: comrades, I’m getting cold,
My eyes can scarcely see.. Before I die, let me behold
The Banner of the Free!

His comrades gathered ‘round him,
And tears from their eyes fell,
As they gazed upon the ghastly face
Of him they loved so well.
He cried: oh! comrades, do not weep;
Why shed those tears for me?
I can like a soldier die,
‘Neath the Banner of the Free!

They raised him from the ground,
To see his Flag once more,
In triumph waving o’er the field
Now covered with human gore;
But see: he starts, his eyes grow bright,
He sees the foemen flee
Before the steel of Freemen bold,
With the Banner of the Free!

A smile o’er-spread his palid face,
He feebly gasped for breath,
And fell back in his comrades’ arms,
In the embrace of death.
They buried him on the bloody field,
‘Neath a drooping willow-tree,
And planted, o’er his resting place,
The Banner of the Free!

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