[98]
From Bunker's height, from Plymouth's shore,
From Concord's meadows, voices come,
That call us to be men once more,
That rouse us more than trump or drum.
Bear up the flag your fathers bore
Through Southern flowers and Northern snow,
Till traitors vex the land no more,
Till treason in the dust lies low.
Say!
shall that flag, which long has waved
Triumphant over land and sea,
Which storm and battle proudly braved,
Be torn to shreds by treachery?
No!
lift your banner toward the sky,
More proudly now that tempests blow!
Like your brave fathers do or die,
Till treason in the dust lies low.
Putnam.
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