Classic Poem

Oh, placable and patient race,
Thy burden bearing through the years,
How often marred with grief thy face,
How oft thine eyes are dim with tears!

How patient art thou with thy gods,
Still framing for them some excuse,
Bending thy back beneath their rods,
And turning pain to noble use!

How patient art thou with thy kings
That rob, and fatten on thy spoils!
While each new year new burden brings,
To bind thee to thy weary toils.

Be patient still, and labor on!
Thy waiting is not all in vain;
For, see! long hours of dark are gone,
And, east, the night begins to wane.

Science, man's mighty friend, has bound
Nature's trained forces, foes no more:
They stamp their hoofs, and at the sound
Flies open every once barred door.

And through these doors man shall advance,
And find free course o'er all the earth;
No more the slave of circumstance,
But rising to his kingly worth.

He claims his birthright now, and reigns:
The Titans that o'er chaos ruled,—
Lightning and steam,—with giant pains,
Now run his errands, trained and schooled.

O People, once a mass, held down,
The plaything of the priest and king,
You yet shall come into your own,
And to you earth her tribute bring.

Dethroned, the gods of wrong and hate;
Dethroned, the old-time kingly power;
Dethroned, the priesthood's selfish state:
Reason enthroned, then comes your hour!

The spelling-book shall be the key
To thrust back in the lock of fate
The musty bolts of destiny,
And bid you enter now, though late.

But, on God's dial-plate of time,
'Tis never late for him who stands
Self-centred in a trust sublime,
With mastered force and thinking hands.

The world then all before you lies:
The stars fight for you; and there waits
A future where bold enterprise
Flings open wide the long-shut gates.