Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/227

Rh We climbed the hight of being, and the power

That falls alone on those who love their kind

A moment made us one with the Eternal Mind.

One moment, ah! not so, dear Country! Thou

Art still our passion; still to thee we bow

In love supreme! Fairer than e'er before

Art thou to-day, from golden shore to shore

The home of freemen. Not one stain doth cling

Now to thy banner. Argosies of war

On thy imperial rivers bravely fling

Flags of the nations, but no message bring

Save of peace only; while, behold, from far

The Old World comes to greet thy natal star

That with the circling century returns,

And in the Western heavens with fourfold beauty burns.

Land that we love! Thou Future of the World!

Thou refuge of the noble heart opprest!

O, never be thy shining image hurled

From its high place in the adoring breast

Of him who worships thee with jealous love!

Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove

All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined!

Thou art not for thyself but for mankind,

And to despair of thee were to despair

Of man, of man's high destiny, of God!

Of thee should man despair, the journey trod

Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair,

By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow,

Were but the pathway to a darker woe

Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart

Of prophet. To despair of thee! Ah, no!

For thou thyself art Hope, Hope of the World thou art!