Classic Poem

SINCE that first dream how long, how weary-long
Crept the slow, lonely centuries, with no heed
Of the premonitory need
Of that forgotten and neglected land —
Years like to years as waves upon that sleepy strand.
Now, through thy sympathetic strife,
The dozing Tropic is no more;
The world is at its door.
At last it is adjoined to Life,
To Freedom, and the brood
Of! Human Brotherhood.
This is the meed
Of richer triumph in thy deed, —
The nation's pride that soon shall be a pride without alloy:
That far beyond the Zone —
Ours only for the world to own,
Since that belongs to all that all alike enjoy —
By bond assured, not word of mouth,
We shall draw closer to the chivalrous South,
Reaching our hands in friendship, not in greed.
This is the leaping gladness in our song:
That, for the human throng
Who still, in every land, are slaves to ancient wrong,
Half realized, half understood,
Each sun may rise to greet a greater good.
There is a destiny in every need of man.
Though long, oh, weary-long
It wait in patience for the strong.
Who grasp it not may honor him who can:
Servant of Man, well done!