THE FLAG GOES BY

HATS off!

Along the street there comes

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flash of color beneath the sky:
Hats off!

The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off!

The colors before us fly;

But more than the flag is passing by.

Sea fights and land fights, grim and great, Fought to make and to save the State: Weary marches and sinking ships;

Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace; March of a strong land's swift increase; Equal justice, right and law,

Stately honor and reverend awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong

To ward her people from foreign wrong:

Pride and glory and honor,-all

Live in the colors to stand or fall.

72

THE FLAG GOES BY

Hats off!

Along the street there comes

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off!

The flag is passing by!

HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT.

ABOU BEN ADEM

ABOU BEN ADEM (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"-The vision raised its head,

And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, The names of those who love the Lord.". "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed
And, lo! Ben Adem's name led all the rest!

LEIGH HUNT.

THE COMING OF SPRING

THERE'S something in the air

That's new and sweet and rare

A scent of summer things,

A whir as if of wings.

There's something, too, that's new

In the color of the blue

That's in the morning sky,

Before the sun is high.

And though on plain and hill
'Tis winter, winter still,
There's something seems to say
That winter's had its day.

And all this changing tint,
This whispering stir and hint
Of bud and bloom and wing,
Is the coming of the spring.

And to-morrow or today
The brooks will break away
From their icy, frozen sleep,
And run, and laugh, and leap.