THE NATION BUILDERS
17
In the wild ravine where the searcher's gold is bought
with his own heart's blood,
In the dark of the drive where the miner's life goes
out with the swirling flood,
'Tis war and stress, with never a pause to mourn for
a stout heart gone,
Till the lives of the Nation Builders have paid for the
victory won.
with his own heart's blood,
In the dark of the drive where the miner's life goes
out with the swirling flood,
'Tis war and stress, with never a pause to mourn for
a stout heart gone,
Till the lives of the Nation Builders have paid for the
victory won.
In the glare and steam of the cities, the thunder and
clatter of wheel,
By the teeming wharves, where the liners lie at rest
on an even keel,
In the strife of a swelling commerce, at the desk in
the dull routine
Where the soul of a man is warped and sunk to the
soul of a mere machine,
In the flash of the wire to west and north, in the hum
of the restless street,
In the pulse of the toiling press that beats all night
in a fever heat,
Where the weary brain and the pen plod on 'neath
the white electric light–
Tho' we fail and fall still the fight goes on; and ever
our sons shall fight,
clatter of wheel,
By the teeming wharves, where the liners lie at rest
on an even keel,
In the strife of a swelling commerce, at the desk in
the dull routine
Where the soul of a man is warped and sunk to the
soul of a mere machine,
In the flash of the wire to west and north, in the hum
of the restless street,
In the pulse of the toiling press that beats all night
in a fever heat,
Where the weary brain and the pen plod on 'neath
the white electric light–
Tho' we fail and fall still the fight goes on; and ever
our sons shall fight,
