Part 1 — THE STADIUM, PLATTSBURG

I hear the mighty song of singing men Crashing among the pine-trees through the night, And thund'ring, trumpet-wise, down every glen, A song to France, whose soul is bleeding white. But hark!—out rings a deeper, stronger cry. A Nation, which has newly learned to give, Is singing as its sons go forth to die, Because, God knows, they're going forth—to live! * * * * * * O little Maid of France, who rests in Heaven, Crowned with the Lilies Three (and Lilies Seven), Send us the clear-eyed Faith that came to thee, Praying beneath the pines, in Domremy.