Classic Poem

Woven into the wonderful fabric we know as our land
Numberless varying threads have come to the great Weaver's hand.
All have their part in enlacing the pattern and blending the hues;
Infinite Wisdom alone has the knowledge the texture to choose.

Richer because of the contrast, though Time shall ripen and soften
Crude inharmonious warp and woof, shall unravel and often
Seemingly start anew with a different, finer design,
So shall the vast web grow and serve for its purpose divine.

Since we have drawn from the whole wide world and made as our own
Millions of noble men who into our substance have grown,
Surely then must we be forever at peace with the world;
Banners of war must not wave, the threat of defiance not hurled!

All of the kingdoms of earth as one great sisterhood stand;
Good or evil for one affects the rest of the band.
Much as we love our country far more should our deepest elation
Stir in the heart at the splendid dream of the World's Federation —
Dream that is sure to come true, though it may not dawn in our day.
Prejudice, slowly, and hatred and jealousy vanish away.

More than a cycle of years elapsed ere our Mother we pardoned;
Bitterness rankled; tradition of war held fast; hearts were hardened.
Now once more we are one; in a splendid past both have part,
Holding a mutual glory of letters and science and art:
Chaucer is ours, and Shakespeare and all the bright constellation
Throned in Elizabeth's sky — the cynosure of a nation.

Shelley the bard of revolt and Keats the nightingale-souled,
Wordsworth the Lakes' laureate and Byron the demon-controlled,
Burns, Caledonia's Joy, Carlyle the stern crabbed teacher,
Gladstone the many-sided and grand, keen Newman the preacher,
Arnold the lofty-lyred, FitzGerald, old Omar's high priest,
Rousing the drowsy mind with the sceptic thought of the East,
Landor the stately of style and Tennyson lord of sweet song,
Browning the strong, are ours and all the planetbright throng
Marking Victoria's reign the noblest on History's pages.

Ours, too, are all the great names of Europe's goldenest ages —
Dante, Cervantes, Hugo, Groot, Goethe, Jokai, Tolstoi —
Multitudes more whose words are a never-diminishing joy.

All the world is one and all men are brothers in heart,
Loving the same ideals, thrilled by the marvels of art,
Worshipping all the same Father, though under a different name,
Varying only in trifles, but all in essentials the same.
Barrier-space and slow-crawling Time are conquered by Science,
Steam and the winged Lightning have knit all the realms in alliance;
Loss of wealth in the West is felt in the marts of the East;

Freedom of travel and traffic has ever man's profit increased;
Famine, Pestilence, War, though confined to one zone, threaten all;
All of the nations prosper if one rise, droop if one fall.

Let us be true to our home, to our town, to our state, to our land,
Humble in all success, unspoiled by our heritage grand,
Yet to the whole wide world extend the brotherly hand!