Thine are the large winds and the splendid sun Glutting the spread of heaven to the floor Of waters rhythmic from far shore to shore, And thine the stars, revealing one by one, Thine the grave, lucent night’s oblivion, The tawny moon that waits below the skies,— Strange as the dawn that smote their blistered eyes Who watched from Calvary when the Deed was done. And thine the good brown earth that bares its breast To thy benign October, thine the trees Lusty with fruitage in the late year’s rest; And thine the men whos@ blood has glorified Thy name with Liberty Is divine decrees— The men who loved thy soil and fought and died. III Toward thine Eastern window when the morn Steals through the silver mesh of silent stars, I come unlaurelled from the strenuous wars Where men have fought and wept and died forlorn. But here, across the early fields of corn, The living silence dwelleth, and the gray Sweet earth-mist, while afar the lisp of spray Breathes from the ocean like a Triton’s horn. Open thy lattice, for the gage is won For which this earth has journeyed though the dust Of shattered systems, cold about the sun; And proved by sin, by mighty lives impearled, A voice cries through the sunrise: “Time is Just!”— And falls like dew God’s pity on the world GEORGE CABOT LODGE THE SONG OF THE WAVE This is the song of the wave! The mighty one! Child of the soul of silence, beating the air to sound: White as a live terror, as a drawn sword, This is the wave. II This is the song of the wave, the white-maned steed of the Tempest Whose veins are swollen with life, In whose flanks abide the four winds. This is the wave. III This is the song of the wave! The dawn leaped out of the sea And the waters lay smooth as a silver shield, And the sun-rays smote on the waters like a golden sword. Then a wind blew out of the morning And the waters rustled And the wave was born! IV This is the song of the wave! The wind blew out of the noon And the white sea-birds like driven foam Winged in from the ocean that lay beyond the sky And the face of the waters was barred with white, For the wave had many brothers, And the wave was strong! V This is the song of the wave! The wind blew out of the sunset And the west was lurid as Hell. The black clouds closed like a tomb, for the sun was dead. Then the wind smote full as the breath of God, And the wave called to its brothers, “This is the crest of life!” VI This is the song of the wave, that rises to fall, Rises a sheer green wall like a barrier of glass That has caught the soul of the moonlight. Caught and prisoned the moon-beams; Its edge is frittered to foam. This is the wave! VII This is the song of the wave, of the wave that falls— Wild as a burst of day-gold blown through the colours of morning It shivers to infinite atoms up the rumbling steep of sand. This is the wave. VIII