MARCHING MEN.
FLARING bugle, throbbing drum,
Onward, onward hear them come,
Like a tide along the street
Swells the sound of martial feet;
On the breeze their colors streaming,
In the sun their rifles gleaming,
Pride of country, pride of race,
Glowing in each ruddy face—
Marching men, marching men,
Leaping pulses keep you pace.
Measured, rhythmic, thousands strong,
Sounds their tread the whole night long,
Beating over heart and brain,
Over hopes that bloomed in vain,
Like the roll of distant thunder,
That would tear a world asunder,
All the nation's hope and pride
Surging in the tireless tide—
Marching men, marching men,
Love goes praying by your side.
Deep the pathways they have worn
Over women's hearts forlorn,
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