Ere he pluck down this banner, crying "It bears

An old device"; for, though it seem the old,

It is the new! No rent shroud of the past,

But its transfigured spirit that still shines

Triumphantly before the foremost lines,

Even from the first prophesying the last.

And whoso dreams to pluck it down shall stand

Bewildered, while the great host thunders by;

And he shall show the rent shroud in his hand

And "Lo, I lead the van!" he still shall cry;

While leagues away, the spirit-banner shines

Rushing in triumph before the foremost lines.

RANK AND FILE

I

Drum-taps! Drum-taps! Who is it marching,

Marching past in the night? Ah, hark,

Draw your curtains aside and see

Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching

Endless ranks of an army marching,

Marching out of the measureless dark,

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