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Title
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013
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Transcription
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To sing, to tell it all,
As the glad birds that call
The green spring up the land, till each
With happier heart shall learn and teach
Such new accord of life as sings attune
Through the dense leaves of June.
To know, to love, to sing—and then,
To spread the gathered wealth abroad
To every, dwelling-place of men,
As, with the ancient dragon-hoard,
Siegfried, the slayer, southward rode
With the red serpent gold that glowed,
All glorious, at his saddle-bow.
Ride on, O conqueror, with thy spoil
Of error and thy gifts of might!
Ride on, that every heart may know
The sudden sun of wisdom's light,
That through the loneliest prairie ways,
Where the least sod-built shanty stands,
Or where the city's million hands
Toil grimy through the grudging days,
The blessing of thy gifts may go,
That our new land may rise and know,
As the old peoples of the past,
The joys that do not pale, the hopes that last
Against the hour of death, and make of life
More than a barren strife,
And of life's end no mere forgetfulness.
So shall thy mission be to bless,
To raise, to brighten, and to lead us on
Till the last fight is won,
The utmost end accomplished, and we see
Far up above us, white and marvellous,
The peaks long-sought, and hear acclaiming us
The voices of old victors gloriously
Triumphing up the slopes of victory,
HERBERT BATES.
February 15, 1894.
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Rights
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