loo Tall Bearded Iris 



Not fated, they, to win the prize they seek! 

 Yet, noble souls may triumph, — though they fail! 

 St. Louis, like his Master, — bold, yet meek, — 

 Knows not defeat, where craven's heart would quail. 

 Unstained his snowy flag, — God's warrior he! 

 Still gleaming bright, his golden Fleur de Lis! 



New worlds beyond the ocean's wide expanse, 

 Allure the hearts of youth, aspiring, free. 

 To conquest, fame and wealth and Liberty. 

 Again the chivalry, the flower of France, 

 Leap forth to battle, braving odds of chance 

 In wilds unknown; — they cross the heaving sea; — 

 Again the snowy flag and Fleur de Lis 

 Enkindle ardor for the high romance! 



All buoyantly they dare the frozen North; — 

 New France is builded under alien sky! 

 Now calls the golden West, and faring forth, 

 Within its woods and hills their fate they try. 

 The West is won! they raise for all to see, 

 St. Louis' flag of snow and Fleur de Lis! 



Once more. Religion calls a new crusade 

 'Gainst Error's pagan hosts, whose victims be 

 Men's souls enslaved to Pride, and Vanity 

 And fleshly lusts, that shamefully degrade 

 Th' immortal spirit. Lo! Again displayed, 

 And high over Learning's stronghold, floating free, 

 The snowy flag bestrewn with Fleur de Lis, 

 And 'neath its folds St. Louis' sons arrayed! 



