On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep (where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes), what is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep -- as it fitfully blows -- half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam; in full glory reflected now shines in the stream: ’tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
As a friend reminded me recently, the better-remembered verse is a question, which is almost always left unanswered.
But today, what is our answer to the question "O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave?"