The Poetry Corner

The Republic

By Madison Julius Cawein

I. Not they the great Who build authority around a State, And firm on calumny and party hate Base their ambition. Nor the great are they Who with disturbance make their way, Mindful of but to-day And individual ends that so compel They know not what they do, yet do it well. Butthey the great. Who sacrifice their honor for the State And set their seal Upon the writing, consecrate, Of time and fate, That says, "He suffered for a People's weal: Or, calm of soul and eye, Helped to eliminate The Madness that makes Progress its wild cry, And for its policy Self, a divinity, That on illusions thrives, And knows not whither its desire drives Till on the rocks its headlong vessel rives." II. God of the wise, On whom the People wait, And who at last all evils wilt abate, Make Thou more keen men's eyes: Let them behold how Thou at length wilt bring, From turmoil and confusion now that cling About the Nation's feet, Order and calm and peace With harmony of purpose, wing to wing As out of Chaos sprang Light and its co-mate, Law, when loud Thy summons rang High instruments of power never to cease, Spirits of destiny, Who from their lofty seat Shall put down hate and strife's insanity, And all contentions old that eat The country to the quick: And Common-Sense, the Lion-Heart now sick, Forth from his dungeon cell Go free, With Song, his bold Blondl; And, stretching forth a stalwart arm To laboring land and sea, With his glad coming warm The land to one accord, one sympathy Of soul; whose strength shall stand For something more than gold to all the land, Making more sure the ties Of freedom and equality And Progress; who, unto the watchful skies, Unfurls his banner and, with challenging hand, Leads on the world's emprise. III. God of the just and wise, Behold! why is it that our mortal eyes Are not more open to the good that lies Around our feet? the blessings in disguise That go with us about our daily deeds Attending all our needs? Why is it that, so rich and prodigal, We will complain Of Nature her whose liberal hand, Summer and spring and fall, Pours out abundance on the Land? Cotton and oil and grain O God, make men more sane! Help them to understand And trust in her who never failed her due; Who never camped with Famine and his crew Or made ally Of the wild House of old Calamity! But always faithfully, Year after generous year, From forth her barque of plenty, stanch of sail, Poured big abundance. What did lies avail, Or what did fear To make her largess fail? They who descry, Raising a hue and cry, Disaster's Harpies darkening the sky Each month that comes and goes, are they not less Of insight than the beasts of hill and field, Who take no worry, knowing Earth will yield Her usual harvest a sufficiency For all and more; yea, even enough to bless The sons of Greed, who make a market of lies And blacken blessings unto credulous eyes, Turning them curses, till on every hand They see, as Speculation sees, God's benefactions rain, and sun, and snow Working destruction in the land, The camping-ground of old hostilities, Changing all joy to woe With visitations of her wrath withal, Proclaiming her, our mother Nature, foe Undeviating, to our hopes below Nature, who never yet has failed to bless us all. IV. By the long leagues of cotton Texas rolls, And Mississippi bolls; By the wide seas of wheat The far Dakotas beat Against the barriers of the mountainland: And by the miles of maize Nebraska lays Like a vast carpet in Her House of Nights and Days, Where, glittering, in council meet The Spirits of the Cold and Heat, With old Fertility whose heart they win: By all the wealth replete Within our scan, From Florida to where the snows begin, Made manifest of Nature unto Man Behold! The Land is as a mighty scroll unrolled, Whereon God writes His name In harvest: green and gold And russet making fair as oft of old Each ddal part He decorates the same With splendors manifold Of mountains and of rivers, fruits and flowers; Sealing each passage of the rubric Hours With esoteric powers Of life and love, and all their mystery, Through which men yet may see The truth that shall refute the fool that cries, "God has forgot us and our great emprise!" V. Of elemental mold God made our Country, wombing her with gold And veining her with copper, iron, and coal. Making her strong for her appointed goal. High on her eagled peaks His rainbow gleams Its mighty message: in her mountain streams His voice is heard: and on the wind and rain Ride Potencies And Portents of His purpose, while she dreams Of great achievements, great activities, And, weariless of brain, From plain to busy plain, And peak to plateau, with unresting hand, Along the laboring land, She speeds swift train on train, Feeling the urge in her of energies, That bear her business on From jubilant dawn to dawn, From where the snow makes dumb Alaskan heights, to where, like hives of bees, The prairies hum With cities; while around her girdling seas Ships go and come, Servants and slaves of her vast industries. VI. And He, who sits above, And, watching, sees Her dreams become great actualities, Out of His love Will He continue to bestow Blessings upon her, even more and more, Until their store Shall pass the count of all the dreams we know? Why heed The sordid souls that worship Greed? The vampire lives that feed, Feast and grow fat On what they name the Proletariat; Wringing with blood and sweat, From forth the nation's muscle, heart, and brain, The strength that keeps her sane: They, too, shall have their day and cease to be. Ignoble souls, who, for a market, set Before the People's eyes A scarecrow train Of fabrications, rumors, antic lies Of havoc and calamity, Panic appearances of Famine, War, That for the moment bar The path of Truth and work their selfish gain. VII. God of the simple and the wise, Grant us more light; and lead The great adventure to its mighty end! From Thy o'erarching skies Still give us heed, And make more clear the way that onward lies. Not wealth now is her need, The great Republic's, Wealth, the child of Greed, Nay, nay! O God, but for the dream we plead, The dream as well as deed, The Dream of Beauty which shall so descend From Thee, and with her inmost being blend, That it shall help her cause More than all temporal laws. . . . VIII. Now, for her soul's increase, And spirit's peace, Curb the bright dmon Speed; Grant her release From strife; and let the joy that springs From love of lowly things Possess her soul and plead For work that counts for something to the heart, And grows immortal part Of life the work called Art; And let Love lead Her softly all her days; with quiet hand Sowing the fruitful land With spiritual seed Of wisdom from which blossoms shall expand Of vital beauty, and her fame increase More than the wealth of all the centuries. IX. God of the wise, The meek and humble, who still look to Thee, Holding to sanity And truth and purpose of the great emprise, Keep her secure, And beautiful and pure As when in ages past Thou didst devise, Saying within Thy heart, "She shall endure! A great Republic!" Let her course be sure, O God, and, in detraction's spite, Unquestionably right; And in the night, If night there must be, light a beacon light To guide her safely through the strife, The conflict of her soul, with passions rife. Oh, raise some man of might, Whose mind shall put down storm and stress of life, And kindle anew the lamp whose light shall burn, A Pharos, in the storms, That shall arise and with confusion shake Foundations of the walls of Civilization: A pillar of flame, behold, Like that of old, Which Israel followed and its bondage brake, Leading each night-lost Nation To refuge in her arms, Freedom's, away from all the Tyrannies Of all the Centuries, Safe on her heart to learn To hush its heart's alarms.