Classic Poem

And where lies Usland, Land of Us?
Where Freedom lives, there Usland lies!
Fling down that map and measure thus
Or argent seas or sapphire skies:
To north, the North Pole; south, as far
As ever eagle cleaved his way;
To east, the blazing morning star,
And west! West to the Judgment Day!

No borrowed lion, rampt in gold;
No bleeding Erin, plaintive strains;
No starving millions, mute and cold;
No plundered India, prone in chains;
No peaceful farmer, forced to fly
Or draw his plowshare from the sod,
And fighting, one to fifty, die
For freedom, fireside, and God.

Fear not, brave, patient, free-born Boers,
Great Usland's heart is yours today.
Aye, England's heart of hearts is yours,
Whatever scheming men may say.
Her scheming men have mines to sell,
And we? Why, meat and corn and wheat.
But, Boers, all brave hearts wish you well;
For England's triumph means defeat.