O the drum! br There is some br Intonation in thy grum br Monotony of utterance that strikes the spirit dumb, br As we hear br Through the clear br And unclouded atmosphere, br Thy palpitating syllables roll in upon the car! br br There's a part br Of the art br Of thy music-throbbing heart br That thrills a something in us that awakens with a start, br And in rhyme br With the chime br And exactitude of time, br Goes marching on to glory to thy melody sublime. br br And the guest br Of the breast br That thy rolling robs of rest br Is a patriotic spirit as a Continental dressed; br And he looms br From the glooms br Of a century of tombs, br And the blood he spilled at Lexington in living beauty blooms. br br And his eyes br Wear the guise br Of a purpose pure and wise, br As the love of them is lifted to a something in the skies br That is bright br Red and white, br With a blur of starry light, br As it laughs in silken ripples to the breezes day and night. br br There are deep br Hushes creep br O'er the pulses as they leap, br As thy tumult, fainter growing, on the silence falls asleep, br While the prayer br Rising there br Wills the sea and earth and air br As a heritage to Freedom's sons and daughters everywhere. br br Then, with sound br As profound br As the thunderings resound, br Come thy wild reverberations in a throe that shakes the ground, br And a cry br Flung on high, br Like the flag it flutters by, br Wings rapturously upward till it nestles in the sky.