What deems to enter, within the glory of its day,
Into the fading realms of history may?
Is it not the thought of the joy of freedom, say!
Where order and republic supreme lay!
The flags in their merry swirls sway high,
And remind of the glory that again shall pry,
Our hearts open to that resounding war-cry,
Which without violence made slavery die!
The merry march of our guards unto the end of the road,
Lead us along, to that freedom's abode,
Which neither thought nor action of man could corrode,
And in that heaven is our future sow'd.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem