Classic Poem

Come forth, ye lusty singers,
And sing to beat the band!
Here, by the gods, to stir the clods
Is matter to your hand!
Sing of the great armada,
And Moslem citadels
That sank, shell-beat, when Carden's fleet
Drove on the Dardanelles!

The spacious Queen Elizabeth ,
With all her puissant train,
Vengeance and Agamemnon ,
Triumph and Charlemagne —
High Heaven! were I a singer
Who sang in epic style,
With this t' inspire I'd hit the lyre
And spill a song worth while.

Where will ye find a battle
Like this in ancient lore?
On such a fight the morning light
Has never streamed before.
Step forth, ye swaggering poets
Who do the big bow-wow;
Cut loose and sing the biggest thing
In the brave days of Now!