The Eagle of the Blue

Aloft he guards the starry folds
  Who is the brother of the star;
The bird whose joy is in the wind
  Exultleth in the war.
No painted plume--a sober hue,
  His beauty is his power;
That eager calm of gaze intent
  Foresees the Sibyl's hour.
Austere, he crowns the swaying perch,
  Flapped by the angry flag;
The hurricane from the battery sings,
  But his claw has known the crag.
Amid the scream of shells, his scream
  Runs shrilling; and the glare
Of eyes that brave the blinding sun
  The vollied flame can bear.
The pride of quenchless strength is his--
  Strength which, though chained, avails;
The very rebel looks and thrills--
  The anchored Emblem hails.
Though scarred in many a furious fray,
  No deadly hurt he knew;
Well may we think his years are charmed--
  The Eagle of the Blue.

Among the Northwestern regiments there would seem to have been more than one which carried a living eagle as an added ensign. The bird commemorated here was, according the the account, borne aloft on a perch beside the standard; went through successive battles and campaigns; was more than once under the surgeon's hands; and at the close of the contest found honorable repose in the capital of Wisconsin, from which state he had gone to the wars.