THE RETURNED BATTLE FLAGS

Framed and displayed in the rotunda of the State Capitol at Augusta, Me. Written by Moses Owen; born at Bath, Me.,

 July 21, 1838, died at Augusta, Me., Nov. I I, 1878. He was a graduate of Bowdoin College, class of 1861.

 a lawyer and also a soldier in a Maine regiment during tlte war for the preservation of the Union.

Nothing but flags, but simple flags,

Tattered and tom and hanging in rags:

And we walk beneath them with careless tread,

Nor think of the hosts of the mighty dead

That have marched beneath them in days gone by,

With a burning cheek and a kindling eye,

And have bathed their folds with their life's young tide,

And, dying, blessed them, and blessing, died.

Nothing but flags: yet methinks, at night

They tell each other their tale of fight:

And dim spectres come, and their thin arms twine

 Round each standard tom, as they stand in line,

As the word is given-they charge, they form,

 And the dim hall rings with the battle's storm:

And once again. through smoke and strife,

These colors lead to a nation's life.

Nothing but flags: yet they're bathed with tears:

They tell of triumphs, of hopes, of fears,

Of a mother's prayers, of a boy away,

Of a serpent crushed: of the coming day.

Silent they speak, and the tear will start

As we stand beneath them with throbbing heart,

 And think of those who are ne'er forgot­

Their flags come home, why come they not?

Nothing but flags: yet we hold our breath,

And gaze with awe at those types of death:

Nothing but flags: yet the thought will come,

The heart must pray, though the lips be dumb:

They are sacred, pure, and we see no stain

On those dear loved flags come home again;

Baptized in blood, our purest, best,

            Tattered and tom, they're now at rest.

                                                               Moses Owen