Classic Poem

Not for thy flocks and herds and piled gold,
Not for the tireless hands that toiled and hewed,
And made the waste thy garden, and the rude
Mountain thy path; not for thy wealth untold,
Nor all the countless store thy garners hold,
Nor even for thy strong heroic brood,
Which spread from sea to sea, and unsubdued
Stood forth a nation, great and free and bold,
We love thee, but for this: that, face to face
With utterest peril and supreme disgrace,
Yet never didst thou bow thy noble head,
Not once the strong uplifted arm let fall,
But this, the noblest triumph of them all,
Thine own unconquered self hast conquered.