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We have nicknamed it "Old Glory"
As it floats upon the breeze,
Rich in legend, song and story
On the land and on the seas;
Far above the shining river,
Over mountain, glen and glade
With a fame that lives forever
Streams the banner Betsy made.

Once it went from her, its maker,
To the glory of the wars,
Once the modest little Quaker
Deftly studded it with stars;
And her fingers, swiftly flying
Through the sunshine and the shade,
Welded colors bright, undying,
In the banner Betsy made.

When at last her needle rested
And her cherished work was done
Went the banner, love invested,
To the camps of Washington;
And the glorious continentals
In the morning light arrayed
Stood in ragged regimentals
'Neath the banner Betsy made.

How they cheered it and its maker,
They the gallant sons of Mars,
How they blessed the little Quaker
And her flag of stripes and stars;
'Neath its folds, the foemen scorning,
Glinted bayonets and blade,
And the breezes of the morning
Kissed the banner Betsy made.

 Years have passed, but still in glory
 With a pride we love to see,
 Laureled with a nation's glory
 Waves the emblem of the free;
 From the rugged pines of Northland
 To the deep'ning everglade,
 In the sunny heart of Southland
 Floats the banner Betsy made.

 A protector all have found it
 And beneath it stands no slave,
 Freemen brave have died around it
 On the land and on the wave;
 In the foremost front of battle
 Borne by heroes not afraid,
 'Mid the musket's rapid rattle,
 Soared the banner Betsy made.

 Now she sleeps whose fingers flying
 With a heart to freedom true
 Mingled colors bright, undying —
 Fashioned stars and field of blue;
 It will lack for no defenders
 When the nation's foes invade,
 For our country rose to splendor
'Neath the banner Betsy made.

Off with your hat as the flag goes by !
And let the heart have its say;
You're man enough for a tear in your eye
That you will not wipe away.

You're man enough for a thrill that goes
To your very finger tips —
Ay ! The lump just then in your throat that rose
Spoke more than your parted lips.

Lift up the boy on your shoulder high,
And show him the faded shred —
Those stripes would be red as the sunset sky
If death could have died them red.

The man that bore it, with death has lain
These thirty years or more —
He died that the work should not be in vain
Of the men who bore it before

The man that bears it is bent and old,
And ragged his beard and gray;
But see his proud form grow young and bold,
At the tune that he hears them play.

The old tune thunders through all the air,
And strikes right into the heart;
If it ever calls for you, boy, be there !
Be there and ready to start !

Off with your hat as the flag goes by !
Uncover the youngster's head !
Teach him to hold it holy and high,
For the sake of its sacred dead.

In the silent room of a garret room,
With cobwebs round it creeping,
From day to day the old flag lay —
A veteran worn and sleeping:
Dingily old, each wrinkled fold
By the dust of years was shaded;
Wounds of the storm were upon its form,
The crimson stripes were faded.

'Twas a mournful sight in the day-twilight,
This thing of humble seeming,
That once so proud o'er the cheering crowd,
Had carried its colors gleaming:
Stained with mold were the braids of gold,
That had flashed in the sunray's kissing;
Of faded hue with its field of blue,
And some of the stars were missing.

Three Northern maids and three from the glades
Where dreams the Southland weather,
With glances kind and their arms entwined;
Came up the stair together:
They gazed awhile with a thoughtful smile
At the crouching form before them;
With clinging holds they grasped its folds
And out of the darkness bore them.

They healed its scars, they found its stars,
And brought them all together
(Three Northern maids and three from the glades
Where smiles the Southland weather);
They mended away through the summer day,
Made glad by an inspiration
To fling it high at the smiling sky
On the birthday of our nation.

In the brilliant glare of the summer air,
With a brisk breeze round it creeping,
Newly bright through the glistening light,
The flag went grandly sweeping:
Gleaming and bold were its braids of gold,
And flashed in the sunray's kissing;
Red, white, and blue were of deepest hue;
And none of the stars were missing.

Uncover to the flag; bare head
Sorts well with heart as, humbly bowed
We stand in presence of the dead
Who make the flag their shroud.

Uncover to the flag, for those
Of Concord and of Bunker Hill,
The first to fire on Freedom's foes,
With shouts that echo still.

Uncover to the flag, for him
Who sang the song, the gallant Key,
When in the dawn hour, gray and dim,
He strained, its stars to see.

Uncover to the flag, for one
Who scorned to have his colors dip,
And fighting all but flying none,
Cried, "Don't give up the ship."

Uncover to the flag, for him
Who stoutly nailed it to the mast,
And dauntlessly, or sink or swim,
Stood by it to the last.

Uncover to the flag; the land
It floats above is one anew, —
The North and South, now hand in hand,
See God's skies, gray and blue.

Uncover to the flag; it flew
Above the men who manned the Maine,
The pledge that we will mete the due
Of vengeance out to Spain!

Uncover to the flag; it stands
For all of bravest, all of best,
In us with flower-laden hands,
In those who lie at rest.

FULL many a flag the breeze has kissed;
Through ages long the morning sun
Has risen over the early mist
The flags of men to look upon.
And some were red against the sky,
And some with colors true were gay,
And some in shame were born to die,
For Flags of hate must pass away.
Such symbols fall as men depart,
Brief is the reign of arrant might;
The vicious and the vile at heart
Give way in time before the right.

A flag is nothing in itself;
It but reflects the lives of men;
And they who lived and toiled for pelf
Went out as vipers in a den.
God cleans the sky from time to time
Of every tyrant flag that flies,
And every brazen badge of crime
Falls to the ground and swiftly dies.
Proud kings are mouldering in the dust;
Proud flags of ages past are gone;
Only the symbols of the just
Have lived and shall keep living on.

So long as we shall serve the truth,
So long as honor stamps us fair,
Each age shall pass unto its youth
Old Glory proudly flying there!
But if we fail our splendid past,
If we prove faithless, weak and base,
That age shall be our banner's last;
A fairer flag shall take its place.
This flag we fling unto the skies
Is but an emblem of our hearts,
And when our love of freedom dies,
Our banner with our race departs.

Full many a flag the breezes kiss,
Full many a flag the sun has known,
But none so bright and fair as this;
None quite so splendid as our own!
This tells the world that we are men
Who cling to manhood's ways and truth;
It is our soul's great voice and pen,
The strength of age, the guide of youth,
And it shall ever hold the sky
So long as we shall keep our trust;
But if our love of right shall die
Our Flag shall sink into the dust.

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!

Majestic monarch of the cloud!
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumping loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,—
Child of the Sun! to see thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulfur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

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 flow,
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 frighted 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 thy 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 that 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!

Note:
Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) was a poet and newspaper contributor who was born in New York City.  His father and mother both died when he was very young.  From childhood he demonstrated a special talent for writing poetry.  He entered business life, but did not like it, and then decided to study medicine in 1813 which he began to practice three years later.  In 1819 he made daily contributions to the New York Evening Post.  He died in New York City on 21 September 1820.

Your flag and my flag !
   And, oh, how much it holds —
Your land and my land —
   Secure within its folds !
Your heart and my heart
   Beat quicker at the sight;
Sun-kissed and wind-tossed,
   Red and blue and white.
The one flag — the great flag — the flag for me and you —
Glorified all else — the red and white and blue !

Your flag and my flag !
   To every star and stripe
The drums beat as hearts beats
   And fifers shrilly pipe !
Your flag and my flag —
   A blessing in the sky;
Your hope and my hope —
   It never hid a lie !
Home land and far land and half the world around,
Old Glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound !

O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free!
   The glory of thy silver stars,
   Engrailed in the blue above the bars
   Of red for courage, white for truth,
   Has brought the world a second youth
And drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee ...

Old Cambridge saw thee first unfurled,
  By Washington's far-reaching hand,
   To great, in Seventy-six, the wintry morn
Of a new year, and herald to the world
   Glad tidings from a Western land, —
   A people and a hope new-born !
The double cross then filled thine azure field,
In token of a spirit loath to yield
The breaking ties that bound thee to a throne.
But not for long thine oriflamme could bear
That symbol of an outworn trust in kings.
The winds that bore thee out on widening wings
Called for a greater sign and all thine own, —
A new device to speak of heavenly laws,
And lights that surely guide the people's cause.
Oh, greatly did they hope, and greatly dare,
Who bade the stars in heaven fight for them,
And set upon their battle-flag a fair
New constellation as a diadem !
Along the blood-stained banks of Brandywine
The ragged regiments were rallied to this sign;
Through Saratoga's woods it fluttered bright
Amid the perils of the hard-won fight;
O'er Yorktown's meadows broad and green
It hailed the glory of the final scene;
And when at length Manhattan saw
The last invaders' line of scarlet coats
Pass Bowling Green, and fill the waiting boats
   And sullenly withdraw,
   The flag that proudly flew
Above the battered line of buff and blue,
Marching, with rattling drums and shrilling pipes,
Along the Bowery and down Broadway,
Was this that leads the great parade today, —
The glorious banner of the stars and stripes.
   First of the flags of earth to dare
      A heraldry so high;
   First of the flags of earth to bear
      The blazons of the sky;
   Long may thy constellation glow,
      Foretelling happy fate;
   Wider thy starry circle grow,
      And every star a State ! ...
Look forth across thy widespread lands,
O flag, and let thy stars tonight be eyes
   To see the visionary hosts
Of men and women grateful to be thine,
   That joyfully arise
From all thy borders and thy coasts,
And follow after thee in endless line !
They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands;
They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar
   Of cheers; and as the echo dies,
There comes a sweet and moving song
Of treble voices from the childish throng
Who run to thee from every schoolhouse door.
Behold thine army!  Here thy power lies:
The men whom freedom has made strong,
And bound to follow thee by willing vows;
   The women greatened by the joys
Of motherhood to rule a happy house;
   The vigorous girls and boys,
Whose eager faces and unclouded brows
Foretell the future of a noble race,
rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth !
While millions such as these to thee belong,
   What foe can do thee wrong,
What jealous rival rob thee of thy place
  Foremost of all the flags of earth ? . . .

O bright flag, O brave flag, O flag to lead the free !
   The hand of God thy colors blent,
   And heaven to earth thy glory lent
   To shield the weak, and guide the strong
   To make an end of human wrong,
And draw a countless human host to follow after thee !

Thankful for the glory of the old Red, White and Blue,
For the spirit of America that still is staunch and true,
For the laughter of our children and the sunlight in their eyes,
And the joy of radiant mothers and their evening lullabies;
And thankful that our harvests wear no taint of blood to-day,
But were sown and reaped by toilers who were light of heart and gay.

Thankful for the riches that are ours to claim and keep,
The joy of honest labor and the boon of happy sleep,
For each little family circle where there is no empty chair
Save where God has sent the sorrow for the loving hearts to bear;
And thankful for the loyal souls and brave hearts of the past
Who builded that contentment should be with us to the last.

Thankful for the plenty that our peaceful land has blessed,
For the rising sun that beckons every man to do his best,
For the goal that lies before him and the promise when he sows
That his hand shall reap the harvest, undisturbed by cruel foes;
For the flaming torch of justice, symbolizing as it burns:
Here none may rob the toiler of the prize he fairly earns.

To-day our thanks we're giving for the riches that are ours,
For the red fruits of the orchards and the perfume of the flowers,
For our homes with laughter ringing and our hearthfires blazing bright,
For our land of peace and plenty and our land of truth and right;
And we're thankful for the glory of the old Red, White and Blue,
For the spirit of our fathers and a manhood that is true.

IN a chariot of light from the regions of day,
    The Goddess of Liberty came;
Ten thousand celestials directed the way,
    And thither conducted the dame,
This fair budding branch, from the garden above,
    Where millions with millions agree;
She bro't in her hand, as a pledge of her love,
    The plant she call'd Liberty Tree.

This celestial exotic struck deep in the ground,
    Like a native it flourish'd and bore;
The fame of its fruit, drew the nations around,
    To seek out its peaceable shore.
Unmindful of names or distinction they came,
    For freemen like brothers agree:
With one sprit endow'd, they one friendship pursued,
    And their temple was Liberty Tree.

Beneath this fair branch, like the patriarchs of old,
    Their bread, in contentment they eat;
Unwearied with trouble, of silver or gold,
    Or the cares of the grand and the great.
With timber and tar, they old England supplied,
    Supported her power on the seas;
Her battles they fought, without having a groat,
    For the honor of Liberty Tree.

But hear, O ye swains, ('tis a tale the most profane)
    How all they tyrannical powers,
King, Commons, and Lords are uniting amain,
    To cut down this guardian of ours;
From the east to the west, blow the trumpet to arms,
    Thro' the land let the sound of it flee,
Let the far and the near, — all unite with a cheer,
    In defense of our Liberty Tree.

I watched the flag pass by one day.
   It fluttered in the breeze
A young Marine saluted it, and then
   he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform
   So young, so tall, so proud
With hair cut square and eyes alert
   He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought, how many men like him
   Had fallen through the years?
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
   No, Freedom is not free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,
   When everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play
   And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times
  that taps had meant "Amen"
When a flag had draped a coffin
   of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,
   of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
   with interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard
   at the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
   No, Freedom isn't free!!