In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking,
And its golden glory fills the western skies:—
Oh my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise!
For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking,
Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise,
And the foolish, even children, are made wise;
For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making—
Oh my brothers, dreaming for long centuries,
Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!
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