I SAW the waning August moon
Rise o'er the rocky shore,
And on a sad and stormy sea
Its lurid crimson pour.

My window opened to the east,
And far and far away,
I saw the headlong billows breast
The breakers of the bay.

The broad red sea seemed like a field
Where charging squadrons go:
I heard the clang of spear and shield,
I heard the clarions blow.

Near me the dancers' flying feet,
With sounds of harp and horn,
And wild waltz-music, madly sweet,
Were on the night-winds borne.

Rich voices lingered on the ear,
And laughter floated by,
And many a call of merry cheer,
And many a glad reply.

I only watched the trampling feet
Of waves upon the shore;
I only heard their war-drums beat,
Their plunging batteries roar.

I thought on many a bannered plain,
On battles lost and won,
On homes bereft and heroes slain,
And armies marching on.

The wild waltz-music died away,
The laughter and the glee,
But all night long a stormy song
Seemed sounding from the sea:

A wail of trumpets in the air,
A dead march on the wave,
Wild tones of triumph or despair
O'er all our martyred brave.

I hailed Jehovah's fiery sword
In battles lost and won;
I hailed the armies of the Lord
And heard them marching on.