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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=532839" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Yankee Doodle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion. It is presumably an exercise for an entertainment on the evening of Washington's Birthday.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Dawn this morning burned all red<br>Watching them in wonder.<br>There I saw our spangled flag<br>Divide the clouds asunder.<br>Then there followed Washington.<br>Ah, he rode from glory,<br>Cold and mighty as his name<br>And stern as Freedom's story.<br>Unsubdued by burning dawn<br>Led his continentals.<br>Vast they were, and strange to see<br>In gray old regimentals:—<br>Marching still with bleeding feet,<br>Bleeding feet and jesting—<br>Marching from the judgment throne<br>With energy unresting.<br>How their merry quickstep played—<br>Silver, sharp, sonorous,<br>Piercing through with prophecy<br>The demons' rumbling chorus—<br>Behold the ancient powers of sin<br>And slavery before them!—<br>Sworn to stop the glorious dawn,<br>The pit-black clouds hung o'er them.<br>Plagues that rose to blast the day<br>Fiend and tiger faces,<br>Monsters plotting bloodshed for<br>The patient toiling races.<br>Round the dawn their cannon raged,<br>Hurling bolts of thunder,<br>Yet before our spangled flag<br>Their host was cut asunder.<br>Like a mist they fled away. . . .<br>Ended wrath and roaring.<br>Still our restless soldier-host<br>From East to West went pouring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">High beside the sun of noon<br>They bore our banner splendid.<br>All its days of stain and shame<br>And heaviness were ended.<br>Men were swelling now the throng<br>From great and lowly station—<br>Valiant citizens to-day<br>Of every tribe and nation.<br>Not till night their rear-guard came,<br>Down the west went marching,<br>And left behind the sunset-rays<br>In beauty overarching.<br>War-god banners lead us still,<br>Rob, enslave and harry<br>Let us rather choose to-day<br>The flag the angels carry—<br>Flag we love, but brighter far—<br>Soul of it made splendid:<br>Let its days of stain and shame<br>And heaviness be ended.<br>Let its fifes fill all the sky,<br>Redeemed souls marching after,<br>Hills and mountains shake with song,<br>While seas roll on in laughter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Vachel+Lindsay">Vachel Lindsay</a><div class=q>
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