Page:The Seven Seas (Kipling, 1896).djvu/72

50 They passed with their old-world legends—

Their tales of wrong and dearth—

Our fathers held by purchase,

But we by the right of birth;

Our heart's where they rocked our cradle,

Our love where we spent our toil,

And our faith and our hope and our honour

We pledge to our native soil!

I charge you charge your glasses—

I charge you drink with me

To the men of the Four New Nations,

And the Islands of the Sea—

To the last least lump of coral

That none may stand outside,

And our own good pride shall teach us

To praise our comrade's pride!

To the hush of the breathless morning

On the thin, tin, crackling roofs,

To the haze of the burned back-ranges

And the dust of the shoeless hoofs—