ODE: WRITTEN FOR THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY
Upon the shore of God's unfinished years,
Waiting impatient while the slow mist clears,
The younger sister of the nations stands,
And shades her eyes with mighty, eager hands.
Waiting impatient while the slow mist clears,
The younger sister of the nations stands,
And shades her eyes with mighty, eager hands.
So great, so proud, so strong! with youthful scorn
She leaves behind her sisters elder born,
And stands before the parting of the ways,
Unburdened with their weight of yesterdays.
She leaves behind her sisters elder born,
And stands before the parting of the ways,
Unburdened with their weight of yesterdays.
Hard eyes and restless hers, agleam for gain,
And peevish children struggle in her train;
Yet her broad brows have bloody laurels pressed,
And she hath nourished heroes at her breast.
And peevish children struggle in her train;
Yet her broad brows have bloody laurels pressed,
And she hath nourished heroes at her breast.
Half scornful of her children of to-day,
She dreams how long ago and far away
Her firstborn brought across the new-found seas
Their mighty faith, long gone, alas, from these!
She dreams how long ago and far away
Her firstborn brought across the new-found seas
Their mighty faith, long gone, alas, from these!
She sees them, where th' untrodden forest waves,
Building new homes upon their thick-set graves,
Raising new altars to a stern, high creed,
Training in fear of God their stalwart breed.
Building new homes upon their thick-set graves,
Raising new altars to a stern, high creed,
Training in fear of God their stalwart breed.
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