He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved less at her hands.’”
WHEN the story was finished the Story People did not applaud; they felt sorry for poor Philip who had repented so bitterly.
Mary Frances felt sad, and sorry, too; as she did every time she heard the story, for she had often heard it before.
“How Americans love their country!” said the Story King. “They must love it as much as we love our island!”
“Indeed, they do love it,” answered Mary Frances patriotically. “I think it’s the greatest big country in all the world!”
The Story People smiled and clapped their hands at this speech, for they admire loyalty wherever shown.
“Yes, it is,” said the Story Queen, “and we think our island is the greatest little country in all the world.”
“So it is! Indeed, it is! I love it next to my own!” cried Mary Frances; and the Story People applauded again.
“There is a little poem about the Stars and Stripes that is very popular in America,” said the Story Lady, smiling. “Now that the stories are finished for the day, perhaps our guest will recite it for us.”
Mary Frances blushed, and then rose in her place and recited:
Your flag and my flag, And how it flies to-day In your land and my land And half a world away!
Rose-red and blood-red The stripes forever gleam; Snow-white and soul-white-- The good forefathers’ dream; Sky-blue and true-blue, with stars to gleam aright-- The gloried guidon of the day; a shelter through the night.
Your flag and my flag! And, oh, how much it holds-- Your land and my land-- Secure within its folds! Your heart and my heart Beat quicker at the sight; Sun-kissed and wind-tossed-- Red and blue and white. The one flag--the great flag--the flag for me and you-- Glorified all else beside--the red and white and blue!
Your flag and my flag! To every star and stripe The drums beat as hearts beat, And fifers shrilly pipe! Your flag and my flag-- A blessing in the sky; Your hope and my hope-- It never hid a lie! Home land and far land and half the world around, Old Glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound.[C]
[C] From the “Trail to Boyland,” by Wilbur D. Nesbit, Copyright 1904. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.