Nobler and purer than ever before;
We who are chastened by sorrow and anguish
Hail thee as sister and queen evermore.

_Frederick George Scott_




_QUI VIVE?_


_Qui vive?_ Who passes by up there?
Who moves--what stirs in the startled air?
What whispers, thrills, exults up there?
_Qui vive?_
"The Flags of France."

What wind on a windless night is this,
That breathes as light as a lover's kiss,
That blows through the night with bugle notes,
That streams like a pennant from a lance,
That rustles, that floats?
"The Flags of France."

What richly moves, what lightly stirs,
Like a noble lady in a dance,
When all men's eyes are in love with hers
And needs must follow?
"The Flags of France."