Above the weapons glinting bright,
The day god casts a golden light
Across the San Juan Hill.

"Forward!" "Forward!" comes the cry,
As stalwart columns, ambling by,
Stride over graves that, waiting, lie
Undug in mother earth!
Their goal, the flag of fierce Castile
Above her serried ranks of steel,
Insensate to the cannon's peal
That gives the battle birth!

As brawn as black--a fearless foe;
Grave, grim and grand, they onward go,
To conquer or to die!
The rule of right; the march of might;
A dusky host from darker night,
Responsive to the morning light,
To work the martial will!
And o'er the trench and trembling earth,
The morn that gives the battle birth
Is on the San Juan Hill!

Hark! sounds again the bugle call!
Let ring the rifles over all,
To shriek above the battle-pall
The war-god's jubilee!
Their's, were bondmen, low, and long;
Their's, once weak against the strong;