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18981899 IS it not well, my brethren? They whose sleep | |
Beneath the nodding palm, | |
Where the strong currents of the trade wind sweep, | |
Is measureless and calm, | |
If from those loyal lips, now one year dumb, | 5 |
One word across the heaving seas might come, | |
What other word | |
Than this should hail the morning? Might they know | |
That where the tides past grim Cabanas flow | |
The mirrored glories of their banner glow, | 10 |
What other cheer be heard? | |
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Is it not wellthe surer, stronger sight | |
And for that pain and shame | |
The sense of all things slowly set aright | |
Unto a destined aim? | 15 |
That gazing where beyond our utmost dreams | |
The way new broken through the darkness gleams, | |
Fresh wreaths we bring, | |
And heeding all that these with life have bought, | |
What wondrous things the circling months have wrought, | 20 |
For these held dear in all a nations thought | |
Pro patria mori sing. | |
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Is it not well? Pro patria mori! Yea, | |
For her dear sake no less | |
Than those that on some hard-fought glorious day | 25 |
Fall in the strife and stress. | |
Though not as Anglo-Saxons love to go, | |
Stern-set, hard-gripped, with answering blow for blow | |
Not thus they died | |
Yet not without such sacrifice might be | 30 |
Full wrought the perfect work of Liberty, | |
Nor we the children of her first-born see | |
Her sun-lit wings spread wide. | |
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Is it not well? Lo, where the shade was cast | |
Of out-worn kingly sway | 35 |
To gloom the Future with a blighted Past, | |
That curse is swept away; | |
And now above the fading dark arise | |
New constellations in the glittering skies; | |
And in our ears, | 40 |
That heard but now the universal groan, | |
The prison shot and tortured prisoners moan, | |
The chorus of a people freed is blown | |
From the verge of coming years. | |
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Is it not well that far beyond, below, | 45 |
The markets empty strife | |
We have made sure what tides of feeling flow | |
To make the peoples life? | |
How deeply shrined the sacred flag has place | |
In all the toiling million-hearted race, | 50 |
And at her need | |
The youthful giant of the nation wakes, | |
Within his hand a disused weapon takes | |
Lays down for her his ready life, or shakes | |
The world with deathless deed. | 55 |
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Is it not wellthe hope, as if new born, | |
The first of glimmering light, | |
The slender herald of the promised morn | |
Athwart the ancient night? | |
That comes with healing for her wounded breast | 60 |
Of that old East that is the radiant West | |
Of times to be; | |
While in her prostrate place as loaded long | |
With chains of might and blinded hate and wrong, | |
She trembles at the first heard morning song | 65 |
From across the morning sea? | |
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Is it not well, my brethren? There is made | |
One song through all the land; | |
Before one light old doubts and shadows fade, | |
With old lines drawn in sand. | 70 |
The past lies dead. New sight, a broader view, | |
For the Republic sees a purpose new | |
Of boundless scope. | |
While like a sun that burns with clearer flame | |
Sweeps rising through the sky her spotless fame, | 75 |
And lights a land that knows one love, one aim, | |
One flag, one faith, one hope. | |
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