Page:The New Penelope.djvu/346

340 Have ye not all part in the soul's devotions,

To help it swell its anthem's happy height?

Spirit of Love, of God, of inspiration,

The poet's glad heart bursts in acclamation!

CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

SUNSET AT THE MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA.

There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old,

Servant of crafty Spain,

He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold,

Wide o'er the western main,

A thousand spear heads glint beyond the trees

In columns bright and long:

While kindling fancy hears upon the breeze

The swell and shout of song.

And yet, not here Spain's gay, adventurous host,

Dipped sword or planted cross;

The treasures guarded by this rock-bound coast,

Counted them gain nor loss.

The blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hills,