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I watch the regiments swinging by
In the shimmer of polished steel,
With guns that glisten, and flags that fly,
And bronzed young faces, and heads held high,
And the glint of the bayonet finds reply
In the answering flash of the soldier's eye,
As the endless lines unreel.

I hear the throb of the big bass drum;
'Tis the heart of the army beats
In its loud tattoo, and my pulses thrum,
And the swelling veins in my temple hum,
And my sight grows dim, and my lips are dumb,
As I stand on tiptoe to see it come
Through the crowded and cheering streets.

I see the regiments tramping by
To the lilt of a martial air,
Clean young fellows, alert and spry,
Ready and eager to do and die
For humanity under an alien sky,
And a proud old woman this day am I,
For my son is marching there!