With colors gay, adown the street, The drums alert with stirring beat, Our lads pass by who rode for France. They proudly step with ne'er a glance To right or left. They never knew defeat. And still they come, the marching feet Sweep on. Their triumph is complete. The pennons flutter and the sky's adance With colors gay. So late in woods, the air replete With bursting shell and war's conceit, But now to pulsing beat advance, And shouts, that thrill, for home, for France, Our lads march by, adown the street With colors gay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 29 by JAMES JOYCE VARIATIONS: 15 by CONRAD AIKEN DRUMS AND BRASS by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN MATE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE DAWN; SONNET by AMY LOWELL EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR |