To deities of gauds and gold, Land of our Fathers, do not bow! But unto those beloved of old Bend thou the brow! Austere they were of front and form; Rigid as iron in their aim; Yet in them pulsed a blood as warm And pure as flame; -- Honor, whose foster-child is Truth; Unselfishness in place and plan; Justice, with melting heart of ruth; And Faith in man. Give these our worship; then no fears Of future foes need fright thy soul; Triumphant thou shalt mount the years Toward thy high goal! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 16 by HAYDEN CARRUTH DURING WIND AND RAIN by THOMAS HARDY H. BAPTISME (2) by GEORGE HERBERT THE STRAYED REVELLER by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO THE MISS WEBSTERS, WITH DR. AIKIN'S WISH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD UNBELIEVABLE by EDITH GRACE BERKNESS MY GARDEN OF FRIENDS by NETTIE STEPHENSON BOWEN AN ELEGY ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF THOMAS AYLEWORTH, SLAIN AT CROYDON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |