England's genius filled all measure Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, Gave to the mind its emperor, And life was larger than before: Nor sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit. The men who lived with him became Poets, for the air was fame.

Whoever fights, whoever falls, Justice conquers evermore.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, I can.

I think no virtue goes with size; The reason of all cowardice Is, that men are overgrown, And, to be valiant, must come down To the titmouse dimension.

United States! the ages plead, — Present and Past in under-song, — Go put your creed into your deed, Nor speak with double tongue.

O tenderly the haughty day Fills his blue urn with fire; One morn is in the mighty heaven, And one in our desire.

None shall rule but the humble, And none but Toil shall have.

To-day unbind the captive, So only are ye unbound; Lift up a people from the dust, Trump of their rescue, sound!

God said, I am tired of kings, I suffer them no more; Up to my ear the morning brings The outrage of the poor.

The young men were born with knives in their brain, a tendency to introversion, self-dissection, anatomizing of motives.