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STRIKE THE BLOW
by Unknown

The four-way winds of the world have blown,
And the ships have ta'en the wave;
The legions march to the trumps' shrill call
'Neath the flag of the free and brave.
The hounds of the sea
Have trailed the foe,
They have trailed and tracked him down,—
Then wait no longer, but strike, O land,
With the dauntless strength of thy strong right hand,
Strike the blow!
The armored fleets, with their grinning guns,
Have the Spaniard in his lair;
They have tracked him down where the ramparts frown,
And they'll halt and hold him there.
They have steamed in his wake,
They have seen him go,
They have bottled and corked him up;
Then send him home to the under-foam,
Till the wide sea shakes to the far blue dome;
Strike the blow!
The Cuban dead and the dying call,
The children starved in the light
Of the aid that waits till the hero deed
Breaks broad on the tyrant's might.
The starved and the weak
In their hour of woe
Are calling, land, on thee;
Then why delay in thy dauntless sway?
On, on, to the charge of the freedom-way,
Strike the blow!
They have ta'en the winds of the Carib seas,
Thy fleets that know not fear;
Their ribs of steel have yearned to reel
In the dance of the cannoneer.
Thy sons of the blue
That wait to go
Would leap with a will to the charge,
Then send them the word so long deferred;
They have listened late, but they have not heard;
Strike the blow!
They have listened late in the desolate land,
They have looked through brimming eyes,
And starving women have held dead babes
To their heart with a thousand sighs.
On, on to the end,
O land, the foe
Beneath thy sword shall fall,
Thy ships of steel have tracked them home,
Ye are king of the land and king of the foam.
Strike the blow!

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg