Children of the glorious dead, <br />Who for freedom fought and bled, <br />With her banner o'er you spread, <br />On to victory. <br />Not for stern ambition's prize, <br />Do our hopes and wishes rise; <br />Lo, our leader from the skies, <br />Bids us do or die. <br /> <br />Ours is not the tented field- <br />We no earthly weapons wield- <br />Light and love, our sword and shield, <br />Truth our panoply. <br />This is proud oppression's hour; <br />Storms are round us; shall we cower? <br />While beneath a despot's power <br />Groans the suffering slave? <br /> <br />While on every southern gale, <br />Comes the helpless captive's tale, <br />And the voice of woman's wail, <br />And of man's despair? <br />While our homes and rights are dear, <br />Guarded still with watchful fear, <br />Shall we coldly turn our ear <br />From the suppliant's prayer? <br /> <br />Never! by our Country's shame- <br />Never! by a Saviour's claim, <br />To the men of every name, <br />Whom he died to save. <br />Onward, then, ye fearless band- <br />Heart to heart, and hand to hand; <br />Yours shall be the patriot's stand, <br />Or the martyr's grave.<br /><br />Anonymous Americas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-to-victory/
