Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/139

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VERMONT
119
Through storm and darkness up to glorious day!
Each knew the other's need; each in his breast
The subtle tie of closest kin confessed;
Counted the other's honor as his own;
Nor feared to sit upon a separate throne;
Nor loved each other less when—wondrous fate!—
One gave a Nation life, and one a State!

VI.

Oh! rude the cradle in which each was rocked,
The infant Nation, and the infant State!
Rough nurses were the Centuries, that mocked
At mother-kisses, and for mother-arms
Gave their young nurslings sudden harsh alarms,
Quick blows and stern rebuffs. They bade them wait,
Often in cold and hunger, while the feast
Was spread for others, and, though last not least,
Gave them sharp swords for playthings, and the din
Of actual battle for the mimic strife
    That childhood glories in!
Yet not the less they loved them. Spartans they,
Who could not rear a weak, effeminate brood.
Better the forest's awful solitude,
Better the desert spaces, where the day
Wanders from dawn to dusk and finds no life!

VII.

But over all the tireless years swept on,
  Till side by side the Centuries grew old,
  And the young Nation, great and strong and bold,
Forgot its early struggles, in triumphs later won!
  It stretched its arms from East to West;
  It gathered to its mighty breast