They have wakened the timeless Things; they have killed their father Time; Joining hands in the gloom, a league from the last of the sun. Hush! Men talk to-day o'er the waste of the ultimate slime, And a new Word runs between: whispering, 'Let us be one!' THE SONG OF THE SONS One from the ends of the earth--gifts at an open door-- Treason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more! From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed, Turn, and the world is thine. Mother, be proud of thy seed! Count, are we feeble or few? Hear, is our speech so rude? Look, are we poor in the land? Judge, are we men of The Blood? [Illustration: WE THAT WERE BRED OVERSEAS. Those that have stayed at thy knees, Mother, go call them in-- We that were bred overseas wait and would speak with our kin. Not in the dark do we fight--haggle and flout and gibe; Selling our love for a price, loaning our hearts for a bribe.] Those that have stayed at thy knees, Mother, go call them in-- We that were bred overseas wait and would speak with our kin. Not in the dark do we fight--haggle and flout and gibe; Selling our love for a price, loaning our hearts for a bribe. Gifts have we only to-day--Love without promise or fee-- Hear, for thy children speak, from the uttermost parts of the sea! THE SONG OF THE CITIES BOMBAY Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands-- A thousand mills roar through me where I glean All races from all lands. [Illustration: BOMBAY. Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands-- A thousand mills roar through me where I glean All races from all lands.] CALCUTTA Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built, Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to hold. Hail, England! I am Asia--Power on silt, Death in my hands, but Gold! MADRAS Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow, Wonderful kisses, so that I became Crowned above Queens--a withered beldame now, Brooding on ancient fame. RANGOON Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade? Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone, And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid, Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon. SINGAPORE Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid Ere the spent gear may dare the ports afar. The second doorway of the wide world's trade Is mine to loose or bar. HONG-KONG Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps Under innumerable keels to-day. Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps Thy warships down the bay! HALIFAX Into the mist my guardian prows put forth, Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie, The Warden of the Honour of the North, Sleepless and veiled am I! QUEBEC AND MONTREAL