The dying roar of artillery. A nation, torn, in her agony; One nation, smiling in her agony. The long grey lines have all swung south, Worn, proud, unbroken. From river-mouth, From inlet, from roadstead, the boats go by. One flag flies in the freedman's sky. Blue lines passing, mute and worn have come Home to the peace of the north hills—home. The shipping crowds the lower bay. New duties call—the greater play Of Love's great heart of forgivingness; Wrongs that Right must needs redress; And civic growth and righteousness. How the spirit carries, how greatly go The earnest years, we and the Passaic know; Scanning the stars, blood of elder seers, O city of two hundred years! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TURNSTILE by WILLIAM BARNES THE CULPRIT FAY by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE THE COUNTY OF MAYO by THOMAS LAVELLE THYESTES, ACT 2: CHORUS by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA FOREIGN LANDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A BALLAD OF LIFE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |