ALLIES
215
"Waken, old allies of man,
Ye, who were borne in my bosom!
He, in whom freedom began,
The topmost flower and blossom,
The glory and fruit of all
The ages have lifted on high
On the heavenmost branch of the sky,—
Shall he fail? Shall he drop? Shall he die?—
What are ye all, if he fall?
What are we all, if he die?
III
Ships for the pilot of time,
Who hath the stars for eyes!
Room for the sailor sublime,
The unroller of the skies!
He, who stretched, past hope's increase,
Freedom o'er the laughing foam,
And on the billows set her home,
The boundless empire of the seas,
Continent-bastioned, island-strown,—
And grasped the keys of fates unknown!
Let nature's universal whole
Press on the common toil,—
Corn, and cotton, and coal!
