SEVEN years long was the bow | |
| Of battle bent, and the heightening | |
| Storm-heaps convulsed with the throe | |
| Of their uncontainable lightning; | |
| Seven years long heard the sea | 5 |
| Crash of navies and wave-borne thunder; | |
| Then drifted the cloud-rack a-lee, | |
| And new stars were seen, a world’s wonder; | |
| Each by her sisters made bright, | |
| All binding all to their stations, | 10 |
| Cluster of manifold light | |
| Startling the old constellations: | |
| Men looked up and grew pale: | |
| Was it a comet or star, | |
| Omen of blessing or bale, | 15 |
| Hung o’er the ocean afar? | |
| |
| Stormy the day of her birth: | |
| Was she not born of the strong, | |
| She, the last ripeness of earth, | |
| Beautiful, prophesied long? | 20 |
| Stormy the days of her prime: | |
| Hers are the pulses that beat | |
| Higher for perils sublime, | |
| Making them fawn at her feet. | |
| Was she not born of the strong? | 25 |
| Was she not born of the wise? | |
| Daring and counsel belong | |
| Of right to her confident eyes: | |
| Human and motherly they, | |
| Careless of station or race: | 30 |
| Hearken! her children to-day | |
| Shout for the joy of her face. | |
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