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Portents at which the bravest stand aghast The birththroes of a Future, strange and vast, Alarm the land; yet thou, so wise, and strong, Suddenly summoned to the burial bed, Lapped in its slumbers deep and ever long, Hear'st not the tumult surging overhead. Who now shall rally Freedom's scattered host? Who wear the mantle of the leader lost?
Often the first effect of a higher civilization is degeneration. Just as the Chinaman quickly learns big swear-words, and the Indian takes to drink, and certain young men on first reading Emerson's essay on "Self-Reliance" go about with a chip on their shoulders, so sometimes does the first full breath of freedom's air develop the worst in Paddy instead of the best.
With faith and courage, we can perform great deeds and take freedom's next step. And we will. We will carry on the tradition of a good and worthy people who have brought light where there was darkness, warmth where there was cold, medicine where there was disease, food where there was hunger, and peace where there was only bloodshed.
She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured chiefs and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous shame, The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
I got nothing. All went to a cousin. I was nobody; but I was free. Freedom's the only thing that's worth while in this life. And I was twenty or so. It was then that I picked up a girl in London and tried to keep her not honest, but straight to me. I looked after her for a year, working down by the river. But it was no good. She went off with other men because I got tired of her.
You are our living link with the past. Tell your grandchildren the story of struggles waged at home and abroad, of sacrifices freely made for freedom's sake. And tell them your own story as well, because every American has a story to tell. And parents, your children look to you for direction and guidance. Tell them of faith and family. Tell them we are one nation under God.
"We come from slavery's grave unbound, And mountains and the vales resound With songs of jubilee. Ascending from Oppression's night, Behold the dawn of freedom's light! Soldiers of God, arise! The enemy will rue this day, For victory's eagle scents the prey And onward quickly flies. To arms! to horse! my comrades brave! And let the battle-standard wave, For now is honor's day.
So went he forth: but in God's time he came To light on Uilline's hills a holy flame; And, dying, gave The land a saint that lost him as a slave. O dark, sad millions, patiently and dumb Waiting for God, your hour, at last, has come, And freedom's song Breaks the long silence of your night of wrong!
Charles interrupted, inquiringly, again. "Yes, five thousand," the poet answered dreamily, pushing forward his pile of notes, and never ceasing from his murmur: "For Freedom's bride to all succeeding time. Succeeding; succeeding; weak word, succeeding. Couldn't go five dollars on it." Charles turned his card once more. The poet had won again. Charles passed over his notes.
He falls back, with a certain joy, upon the exercise of his inferior powers; he wakes suddenly and "without heart-wreck ": First went my hopes of perfecting mankind, Next faith in them, and then in freedom's self And virtue's self, then my own motives, ends, And aims and loves, and human love went last.
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