For the great Idea,

That, O my brethren, that is the mission of poets.

Songs of stern defiance ever ready,

Songs of the rapid arming and the march,

The flag of peace quick-folded, and instead the flag we know,

Warlike flag of the great Idea.

(Angry cloth I saw there leaping!

I stand again in leaden rain your flapping folds saluting,

I sing you over all, flying beckoning through the fight--O the

hard-contested fight!

The cannons ope their rosy-flashing muzzles--the hurtled balls scream,

The battle-front forms amid the smoke--the volleys pour incessant

from the line,

Hark, the ringing word Charge!--now the tussle and the furious

maddening yells,

Now the corpses tumble curl'd upon the ground,

Cold, cold in death, for precious life of you,

Angry cloth I saw there leaping.)