The Great War

from A Calendar of Verse, an electronic edition

Holy Russia

The world shall be made new

Since thou hast found thy soul.

There shall be freedom for the Jew

And justice for the Pole.

Finland's chain shall break

As breaks the ice in spring,

And spirits like the birds awake

That were too sad to sing.

Throughout the troubled earth

Prophetic tremors run --

It is the travail of the birth

Of Freedom's youngest son.

Dreams that have been as dead

Rise glorious from their grave

As throb to a deliverer's tread

The pulses of the slave.

Torch of the Holy Fires,

Lead us along thy way

Up to the vision of our sires

That we have cloaked with clay!

Humbly we yield to thee

The glory of the van.

Lead on, where calls through liberty

The brotherhood of man!