Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/417

Rh Hear ye, and know,—

While the chords throb with poignant pause and flow,—

Of the New World the mystic, lyric heart,

Breathed in undaunted art:

Her pomp of days, her glittering nights;

The rich surprise

And miracle of iridescent skies;

Her lovely lowlands and imperial hights;

Her glooms and gladness;

Her oceans thundering on a thousand shores;

Her wild-wood madness;

Her streams adream with memory that deplores

The red inhabitants evanished and undone

That follow, follow to far lands beyond the setting sun.

And echoes one may hear of ancient lores

From the Old World's well-loved shores—

Primal loves, and quenchless hates;

Striving lives, and conquering fates;

Elves innocently antic

Or wild-eyed, frantic;

Shadow-heroes, passionate, gigantic—

Sons and daughters of the prime

That moved the mighty bards to noble rhyme.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

The New World hath new music, and a voice.

A FANTASY OF CHOPIN

(GABRILOWITSCH)