102
THE DEAD CENTURY
Still has he taught that the human race
Is one in despite of hue or place,
Even though long
It has wrestled with hate and wrong.
Is one in despite of hue or place,
Even though long
It has wrestled with hate and wrong.
XIV.
And at length—
A giant arising in his strength—
The fetters of serf and slave he broke,
Smiting them off by a single stroke!
Over the Muscovite's waste of snows,
Up from the fields where the cotton grows,
Clearly the shout of deliverance rang,
When chattel and serf to manhood sprang,
As at length
The giant rose up in resistless strength.
········
A giant arising in his strength—
The fetters of serf and slave he broke,
Smiting them off by a single stroke!
Over the Muscovite's waste of snows,
Up from the fields where the cotton grows,
Clearly the shout of deliverance rang,
When chattel and serf to manhood sprang,
As at length
The giant rose up in resistless strength.
········
XV.
Far apart—
Each alone like a lonely heart—
Sat the Nations, until his hand
Wove about them a wondrous band;
Wrought about them a mighty chain
Binding the mountains to the main!
Distance and time rose dark between
Islands and continents still unseen,
While apart
None felt the throb of another's heart.
Each alone like a lonely heart—
Sat the Nations, until his hand
Wove about them a wondrous band;
Wrought about them a mighty chain
Binding the mountains to the main!
Distance and time rose dark between
Islands and continents still unseen,
While apart
None felt the throb of another's heart.
XVI.
But to-day
Time and space hath he swept away!
Time and space hath he swept away!
