Lend Uncle Sam a part of your pay!
Store up! Store up! for a rainy day."

The people heard, as the Scout flashed by,
They heard his fervent, earnest cry.
And out of the stockings laid away,
And out of the closets hid from day,
They gathered their savings of many years
And poured them forth with hearty cheers.
"Take these!" they cried, in the cause of right.
"We'll do our bit — and add our mite,

We'll help to fight and win this war,
We'll save as ne'er we saved before."
And when the Scout on his valiant steed
Had spread the call of his Country's need,
He drew the reins as he reached his home
And patted the neck all flecked with foam.
"Our work is done," he said, "Old Man -
The Nation's roused to a War-Thrift Plan."

The American Flag

Joseph Rodman Drake.

WHEN Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there!
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white
With streakings of the morning light;

Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand

The symbol of her chosen land.

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet-tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And, as his springing steps advance,

Catch war and vengeance from the glance.

And when the cannon-mouthings loud

Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, And gory sabers rise and fall

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall shrink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below . That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave

Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; When death, careering on the gale,

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frightened waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack,

Each dying wanderer of the sea

Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see the splendors fly,
In triumph, o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!
By angel hands to valor given;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float the standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us.

Stanzas on Freedom

James Russell Lowell.

MEN! whose boast it is that ye
Come of fathers brave and free,
If there breathe on earth a slave,
Are ye truly free and brave?
If ye do not feel the chain,
When it works a brother's pain,
Are ye not base slaves indeed,
Slaves unworthy to be freed?

Is true Freedom but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts, forget
That we owe mankind a debt?

No! true freedom is to share
All the chains our brothers wear,
And with heart and hand, to be
Earnest to make others free!

They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;

They are slaves who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse

Rather than in silence shrink

From the truth they needs must think;

They are slaves who dare not be

In the right with two or three.

Stand by the Flag!

By John Nichols Wilder.

STAND by the Flag! Its stars, like meteors gleaming,

Have lighted Arctic icebergs, southern seas, And shone responsive to the stormy beaming Of old Arcturus and the Pleiades.

Stand by the Flag! Its stripes have streamed in glory,

o foes a fear, to friends a festal robe, And spread in rhythmic lines the sacred story Of Freedom's triumphs over all the globe.

Stand by the Flag! On land and ocean billow
By it your fathers stood unmoved and true,

Living, defended; dying, from their pillow,
With their last blessing, passed it on to you.

Stand by the Flag! Immortal heroes bore it Through sulphurous smoke, deep moat and armed defense;

And their imperial Shades still hover o'er it,
A guard celestial from Omnipotence.

Incident of the French Camp

By Robert Browning.

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind,

As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.

Just as, perhaps, he mused, "My plans,
That soar, to earth may fall

Let once my army leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound,

Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.