Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By AmbitionJohn Neal (17931876)
I
And panted at the drum’s deep roll;
And held my breath, when—flaming high—
I saw our starry banners fly,
As challenging the haughty sky,
They went like battle o’er my soul:
For I was so ambitious then,
I burn’d to be the slave—of men.
A standard swaying far and free,
And loved it like the conqu’ring flight
Of angels floating wide and bright
Above the stars, above the fight
Where nations warr’d for liberty.
And thought I heard the battle cry
Of trumpets in the hollow sky.
And shouted to the eaglet soaring;
And hung me from a rocking steep,
When all but spirits were asleep;
And oh, my very soul would leap
To hear the gallant waters roaring;
For every sound and shape of strife
To me, was but the breath of life.
I love no more the bugle voice—
The rushing wave—the plunging prow—
The mountain with his clouded brow—
The thunder when his blue skies bow,
And all the sons of God rejoice—
I love to dream of tears and sighs
And shadowy hair and half-shut eyes.