| 4th of July Poems for
Scrapbooking
The Star Spangled Banner
O say, can you see,
by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last
gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the
perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly
streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in
air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still
there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore dimly
seen thro' the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence
reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering
steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first
beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner: O, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where is that
band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash'd out their foul footsteps'
pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
O thus be it ever
when free-men shall stand
Between their lov'd home and the war's desolation;
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued
land
Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserv'd us a
nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust!”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
[Francis
Scott Key]
July 4th is a day for barbeques
July 4th is a day for
barbeques
Underneath an unforgiving sun;
Later, fireworks, perhaps the news,
Yawns, some love, and then the day is done.
For most it is a day for celebration
Of something so familiar that its grace,
Unnoticed as a routine revelation,
Remains interred in its accustomed place.
This sweet neglect of what sustains a life
Has all the confidence of man and wife.
[Nicholas Gordon]
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