The Eagle Still Flies


An eagle feather fell to earth, stained with blood, and
ash, and dust.
As a hero bent to pick it up, he too, was felled and
crushed.

Other heroes rushed to take his place, and cast an eye
towards the sky,
where nothing stood, no eagle flew, and wept for
thousands who might die.

In the city of the eagle's nest, a second feather fell.
It too was stained with patriots' blood, and scorched by
fires of hell.

Yet a third time did a feather fall. Near freedom's
cradle this one lay.
It too, was stained with hero's blood, that valor washed
away.

A nation mourned for thousands lost, and feared the
eagle's fate.
Would the wounded eagle soar no more? Were the hero's
toils too late?

Then from the ashes like a Phoenix, the eagle rose
anew,and bloody hands unfurled her, and Old Glory once
more flew!

Swept aloft by prayer and patriots' blood, the eagle
gained new height.
Saved from ashes by a nation's love, and resolved to win
a fight!

That eagle is America! Harm him, you harm us all!
And though wounded, I assure you, that eagle will not
fall!

Fear the eagle, if you harm him! He will not flee or die!
Stand proud My Country Tis of Thee, for the eagle surely
flies!

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