The Conquered Banner Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCCCCCB DDDECCCE AAAFGGGF CCHIIH CCCCCH GGGJKLKJ GGMGGM| Furl that Banner for 'tis weary | A |
| Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary | A |
| Furl it fold it it is best | B |
| For there's not a man to wave it | C |
| And there's not a sword to save it | C |
| And there's not one left to lave it | C |
| In the blood which heroes gave it | C |
| And its foes now scorn and brave it | C |
| Furl it hide it let it rest | B |
| - | |
| Take that Banner down 'tis tattered | D |
| Broken is its staff and shattered | D |
| And the valiant hosts are scattered | D |
| Over whom it floated high | E |
| Oh 'tis hard for us to fold it | C |
| Hard to think there's none to hold it | C |
| Hard that those who once unrolled it | C |
| Now must furl it with a sigh | E |
| - | |
| Furl that Banner furl it sadly | A |
| Once ten thousands hailed it gladly | A |
| And ten thousands wildly madly | A |
| Swore it should forever wave | F |
| Swore that foeman's sword should never | G |
| Hearts like theirs entwined dissever | G |
| Till that flag should float forever | G |
| O'er their freedom or their grave | F |
| - | |
| Furl it for the hands that grasped it | C |
| And the hearts that fondly clasped it | C |
| Cold and dead are lying low | H |
| And that Banner it is trailing | I |
| While around it sounds the wailing | I |
| Of its people in their woe | H |
| - | |
| For though conquered they adore it | C |
| Love the cold dead hands that bore it | C |
| Weep for those who fell before it | C |
| Pardon those who trailed and tore it | C |
| But oh wildly they deplore it | C |
| Now who furl and fold it so | H |
| - | |
| Furl that Banner True 'tis gory | G |
| Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory | G |
| And 'twill live in song and story | G |
| Though its folds are in the dust | J |
| For its fame on brightest pages | K |
| Penned by poets and by sages | L |
| Shall go sounding down the ages | K |
| Furl its folds though now we must | J |
| - | |
| Furl that Banner softly slowly | G |
| Treat it gently it is holy | G |
| For it droops above the dead | M |
| Touch it not unfold it never | G |
| Let it droop there furled forever | G |
| For its people's hopes are dead | M |
Abram Joseph Ryan
(1)
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