POETRY.
A SONG OF STRENGTH.
WE have washed our hands of the blood, we have turned at length
From the strait blind alleys of death to the way of peace, Gladly we labour, singing the song of our strength, The strength of man long-fettered that finds release:— The splendid body of man;-0 hand and eye Working in trained accord; 0 flying feet!
The play of muscle in leg and shoulder and thigh, Strong to endure or to strive, sublime, complete;— Man, who has bound the waters, enslaved the wind, Tamed the desolate places, set his span 0'.er the abyss, unconquered and unconfined, Spending his strength in toil for the glory of man;— The climber setting his foot on the perilous slope, The hunter driving the wild thing from its lair, The traveller steering his course by the star of his hope,
Never too faint to believe, too weak to dare;—
The fisherman facing the storm while landsmen sleep, The swimmer,—poised for an instant against the sky, Filling the eye with beauty,—plunging deep With wet white shoulders thrusting the billows by The airman, hovering, sweeping above the hill, The engine driving a furrow of flame through the night, The long ships breasting the waves,—they are with us still, The strong clean things we have made for our heart's delight; Strength of the mind and will, despising sloth, Seeking the task unfinished, the goal unguessed, Sowing the seed in faith, entrusting the growth
To the strength of their children after their hands have
rest;— Strength of the maker, serving a distant age, The poet shaping his dream to a deathless rhyme. The doctor fighting disease, the chemist, the sage,
Grappling with nature, challenging space and time.—
So shall we sing as we labour, till faint hearts hear And turn from their sorrows to listen,—to cry at length :- Lo, we have put away doubt, and cast off fear,
Come, let us fashion the world to the song of our strength. P. H. B. L.
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