Classic Poem

II

Thine are the large winds and the splendid sun
Glutting the spread of heaven to the floor
Of waters rhythmic from far shore to shore,
And thine the stars, revealing one by one.
Thine the grave, lucent night's oblivion,
The tawny moon that waits below the skies, —
Strange as the dawn that smote their blistered eyes
Who watched from Calvary when the Deed was done.
And thine the good brown earth that bares its breast
To thy benign October, thine the trees
Lusty with fruitage in the late year's rest;
And thine the men whose blood has glorified
Thy name with Liberty's divine decrees —
The men who loved thy soil and fought and died.