When day breaks over dreams and sleep?

Come, shoulder to shoulder ere the world grows older!
   Help lies in nought but thee and me;
Hope is before us, the long years that bore us,
   Bore leaders more than men may be.

Let dead hearts tarry and trade and marry,
   And trembling nurse their dreams of mirth,
While we the living our lives are giving
   To bring the bright new world to birth.

Come, shoulder to shoulder ere earth grows older!
   The Cause spreads over land and sea;
Now the world shaketh, and fear awaketh,
   And joy at last for thee and me.

ALL FOR THE CAUSE.

Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh,
When the Cause shall call upon us, some to live, and some to die!

He that dies shall not die lonely, many an one hath gone before,
He that lives shall bear no burden heavier than the life they bore.

Nothing ancient is their story, e’en but yesterday they bled,
Youngest they of earth’s belovëd, last of all the valiant dead.

E’en the tidings we are telling was the tale they had to tell,
E’en the hope that our hearts cherish, was the hope for which they fell.

In the grave where tyrants thrust them, lies their labour and their pain,
But undying from their sorrow springeth up the hope again.

Mourn not therefore, nor lament it that the world outlives their life;
Voice and vision yet they give us, making strong our hands for strife.

Some had name, and fame, and honour, learn’d they were, and wise and strong;
Some were nameless, poor, unlettered, weak in all but grief and wrong.

Named and nameless all live in us; one and all they lead us yet
Every pain to count for nothing, every sorrow to forget.

Hearken how they cry, “O happy, happy ye that ye were born
In the sad slow night’s departing, in the rising of the morn.

“Fair the crown the Cause hath for you, well to die or well to live
Through the battle, through the tangle, peace to gain or peace to give.”

Ah, it may be!  Oft meseemeth, in the days that yet shall be,
When no slave of gold abideth ’twixt the breadth of sea to sea,

Oft, when men and maids are merry, ere the sunlight leaves the earth,
And they bless the day belovëd, all too short for all their mirth,

Some shall pause awhile and ponder on the bitter days of old,
Ere the toil of strife and battle overthrew the curse of gold;

Then ’twixt lips of loved and lover solemn thoughts of us shall rise;
We who once were fools and dreamers, then shall be the brave and wise.

There amidst the world new-builded shall our earthly deeds abide,
Though our names be all forgotten, and the tale of how we died.

Life or death then, who shall heed it, what we gain or what we lose?
Fair flies life amid the struggle, and the Cause for each shall choose.

Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh,
When the Cause shall call upon us, some to live and some to die!

NO MASTER.

(Air: “The Hardy Norseman.”)

—o—

Saith man to man, We’ve heard and known
   That we no master need
To live upon this earth, our own,
   In fair and manly deed.
The grief of