Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE CHANGE OF FLAGS, by ARTHUR GUITERMAN Poet's Biography First Line: A flurried scud of sunlit sails Last Line: "that wrought the battle-blade!" Subject(s): England; Flags; Freedom; Spain; English; Liberty | ||||||||
A FLURRIED scud of sunlit sails To make the sheltered port; A flash of steel, a trumpet-peal Within the seaward fort; The grave-browed burgomasters Have sought the council-hall; Van Dyck has raised the yeomanry To man the northern wall; The Watch is up with ancient arms That foiled the steel of Spain, And groups of anxious burghers Are clustered on The Plain. And here is Abram Pietersen, And hither from The Strand Comes stalwart Borger Joris, His hammer in his hand. The vrouws have left their bread to burn, The children leave their play -- "The Englishmen! the Englishmen! Their ships are in the Bay!" The stubborn Heer Direktor Upon the rampart's height Roused up his keen-eyed gunners, Their linstocks blazing bright: "Now make your weapons ready, And hold your courage high! (I'll hear the cannon's music Once more before I die!) And show these haughty English That ye are of the strain That held the walls of Leyden Against the might of Spain!" A hand upon his shoulder And Peter turned in pride; The Dominie, his comrade, Was standing at his side. "Old friend, and trusty soldier," That man of God began, "I know thy heart of courage That fears not any man; Yet save thy helpless city! Provoke not ruthless war! Alone, surrounded, friendless, Outnumbered as we are. Our sires held leagured Leyden By spear and carronade; But faithful Father William Had sworn to bear them aid. But spare a helpless people, Beset on every hand, Divorced by leagues of ocean From home and fatherland!" Then paused the stern Direktor, While through a dimming mist He viewed his little city He clenched his iron fist And smote the useless cannon. "Thou speakest truth!" he said; "I yield! -- but, God in heaven! I would that I were dead!" Then, shoulder touching shoulder, With drum and trumpet-peal, The princely flag of Orange Above their caps of steel, The city's stanch defenders Marched shoreward, unashamed; And, red against the heavens The flag of England flamed. An angry man was Joris Beside the blazing forge To see above the rampart The banner of St. George! "So! must we swear allegiance And bow our necks?" quoth he, "And pay our tithes to puppets Of kings beyond the sea? What boot to fashion plowshares And scythes, but hapless toil! Oh, had I beaten broadswords Ye might have held your soil! "Ho! freemen! leave the city For dukes to make or mar! We'll raise our rugged hamlets Among the hills afar; And there I'll hammer sabers For better men to use; We'll breed a race of soldiers! A race with hearts and thews! Our children's children's children Perchance may live to fling Away these galling shackles And scorn the tyrant king; And when they've struck for freedom, And when our debt is paid, They'll think on Borger Joris That wrought the battle-blade!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE THE WILD SWAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS AFTER TENNYSON by AMBROSE BIERCE QUARTET IN F MAJOR by WILLIAM MEREDITH CROSS THAT LINE by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE EMANCIPATION by ELIZABETH ALEXANDER |
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