THIS, this is the America that we knew!
Not she whose armour against Hell was reams
Of ratiocination ; who in streams
Of most invincible ink was lost to view ;
But she that once her golden clarion blew
At Gettysburg; she on whose forehead gleams
The unvanquished Morn; the America of our dreams--
Of those immortal dreams that yet are true.
O change not back to marble, mighty brow!
This human wrath is more majestic far,
Man needs thee, and our cause, being Man's, is thine.
Thy place is with the great who know not how
To falter, though their night be without star,
And their vast agony without anodyne.
