Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/26

Where the stars above the trenches meet the soldier's dying glance—
            Its call is sounding on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel;
"As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
            Since God is marching on."

My country—oh, my country! Clear-sighted then and strong,
A shield for the defenceless and a flame against the wrong,
True to the ringing echoes of that mighty marching song
            That still is sounding on—