_P'r'aps you know that back you'll wander, To the lone land over yonder, In the birth of nations still a part you'll play. And perhaps be glad to listen, When the voice demands submission, Turn again and wander exiled on your way. But you catch a whispered murm'ring, "Dad, thank God our boy's returning," Closely clasp the feeble figures to your breast. God, it's all that really matters, And her voice the fancy shatters, For the trail has led you home, a-while to rest._ YESTERDAY There's a land we knew in the days gone by, And builded our castles there. There are trails we trod in the dawning light, With never a thought of care. There were dreams we dreamed, there were plans we planned. But lingered upon our way. As we trod midst a halo of glory The morning of yesterday. For our hearts were light, and the way was bright, What matter the day was long. Cloudless years were ours, and the shady bowers Re-echoed our blithesome song. At the warning cry, as they passed us by, We mocked, for our hearts were gay-- Solemn plodders who passed us at noontide, The noontide of yesterday. Did we linger long, ah, 'twas sweet to do To-morrow, we said with pride. For the way was steep, and we laid to sleep And dream where the trails divide. But the sun was low, as we rose to go, And ah, it was cold and grey, While the shadows of even were falling-- The evening of yesterday. For the land of dreams is the long ago, Where shadowy phantoms tread Of a task undone and a prize unwon, The gift that at noonday fled. Though we turn again to its sunlit plain, The glories are dimmed for aye, And our castles are mingled with ashes. The ashes of yesterday. THE BREED (A Song of the Brand) _They who bear the brand of the lonely land Must follow its lonely way Through the long, long night, till the dawning light Shall herald the break of day. Cross the Arctic snows, where the north wind blows, Or parched 'neath a burning sky, To a call that was theirs since creation They answer and know not why._ I chain with the fetters that bind the soul, I link with the links of time And speak ere the cradle shall yield its child; I claim thee and thou art mine. From palatial pomp to the reeking slum, Midst classes and kinds I roam. And I trust to their keeping mine honour, Midst trails of the great alone. How they smile with joy o'er the baby boy, And plan him a future grand. But I watch unseen, as I stand between, To letter him with the brand. Then I creep away to await the day When idols and hopes shall fall, And a wanderer turns to the desert, Obeying my deathless call.